Year Zero
by I'mNotGivingMyNameToAMachine
Summary: If you ever come after me again, I’ll kill you. If you ever send Ari after me again, I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill you. In fact if anyone comes after me with the intention of taking my freedom, I’ll kill them... Then I'll come for you.
1. Chase

He fired twice is quick succession; the Eraser went down, and he knew it wouldn't get up. He turned and continued his fevered escape, sprinting full tilt in between the trees; his excellent night vision guiding him in the pitch black; the sounds of the Erasers all around him made the deadly creatures more than obvious.

He smiled grimly, dodging another tree at the last conceivable moment; the Erasers were deadly; he was deadlier. Why hadn't they figured that out? He wondered briefly how many more of the things he would have to kill before they stopped hunting him. Or until there were none left to kill.

An Eraser swung from nowhere, giving a howl of attack, and he snapped the pistol up and fired three times; bang, bang, bang. His signature formation; double-tap to the chest, one in the head. He noted with mild pleasure that 'head' in this case was through the brute's left eye.

Right up the optic nerve to the brain; dead instantly.

He mentally subtracted the three bullets he fired from what was left in the pistol; he had fired five, and had five to go. He was on his first magazine; he had three more. He smiled again, leaping over a fallen tree, and landing with catlike grace, pistol in his right hand; he had plenty left for more.

And more indeed came. Four more by his quick estimate. The sounds they created all ran together, but there appeared to be four of them.

He continued sprinting, not at all tired; his heart rate about the same as it ever was; not any higher, certainly.

He wasn't yet sweating.

Though this engagement had just begun, and he didn't know how much longer it would last; until he found a clearing, however long that took.

A growl from behind him forced him to acknowledge the fact that his pursuers were getting uncomfortably close; one very eager devil in particular.

He lept off the ground, spinning it midair. And there the Eraser was, not fifteen feet away.

He brought his free left hand to the pistol for stability; he only needed one shot; he had the Eraser clean in his sights.

Bang.

He finished his spin and landed in a crouch.

He straightened up; he kept running.

Four left in the magazine.

And at least three more pursuers.

A ratio he rather liked.

He smiled again, as sounds from either side came to his attention; they were trying to flank him, leaving one on his tail, and having the other two try to get in front of him to cut him off from escaping.

They were getting clever, he thought, but obviously clever, and that defeated any cleverness they thought they had.

They were also fast, he noted. Faster than most he had dealt with. But no matter. They died just as well as any others.

He leapt over a bush, and continued sprinting. The three Erasers keeping pace. But they were still behind. Behind enough to give him time to think.

How had they found him this time?

Perhaps he hadn't had as much time to think as he would've liked; the Eraser on his right had caught up, and it dove greediliy, with a howl of triumph.

He spun to his side and hit the ground hard; the Eraser brushed over him, and he fired twice into it's torso. It continued it's dive and hit a tree, knocking it cold.

He stood up, pointed the pistol, fired once; knocking it dead. He briefly contimplated running again, but knew he had lost too much time; they would be on him as soon as he turned.

He had to stand his ground.

He had one bullet left.

Another Eraser sprang forward, and he snapped the pistol up fired, hitting it in the upper right shoulder. Terrible shot, he thought, pissed with himself. Blood sprayed from the wound.

The Eraser kept coming.

But he was ready. He spun the pistol in his hand to make it a blunt weapon and he swiftly brought it down on the creature's skull, simultaneously dodging out of it's line of flight.

Why did this group all dive at him like they were playing football? They probably thought that if they got him to the ground, the could swarm him with shear numbers. He gave them credit; with that strategy, they just might be able to. But he doubted it.

The Eraser hit the ground, and tried getting up; he didn't let it.

He brought the pistol down on it's skull as hard as he could. He then did that five more times in less than three seconds.

He stood up straight, ejected the spent magazine, pocketed it, pulled another out, slapped it home, and he was good to go. It was a well-oiled, well executed move that he had had loads of opportunities to practice.

Back to ten.

One problem; the last Eraser had stopped. But he could still hear it breathing.

"Oh, do come out. If I get a good shot, you'll never feel it," he said, waiting.

Then, a second set of breathes from behind him. Only... he recognized these breaths.

He smiled, "Hello, Ari," he said pleasantly turning to face what he knew to be this group's (what was left of it) leader.

And low and behold, there was Ari, looking as grotesque as ever.

"Hello, Brium," Ari said, eyes flashing malevolently, "Nice night for a stroll."

"Run, actually," Brium countered, "Then jump, spin, shoot, flip, land, run. Not always in that order, but you get the idea, I'm sure."

The second Eraser emerged from behind the trees; he heard it quite clearly.

He gave Ari credit, he actually looked somewhat scary in the dark.

"Why don't you give up, Brium," Ari said threateningly, "And come with us? I know Jeb would love to see you."

Brium smiled, "Not anywhere near as much as I'd like to see him. You go tell him to meet me for coffee sometime. I'll pay."

"Now, boss?" The Eraser from behind him hissed. Brium could hear his claws flexing in anticipation.

"Shut the fuck up, please. It's rude to interrupt." Brium said, not for one single moment taking his eyes off of Ari, "So, enjoying the new wings?" Brium asked, making small talk, his pistol dangling at his side, looking harmless but being anything but, "you might be better off with a backpack of lead the way you use them."

"Shut up!" Ari snapped.

"Excellent retort," Brium smiled. "I am honored, Ari, that you would take time off doing whatever it is you do to come after me again. Trying to earn back Jeb's love? Face it, with all that's happened to you, it's doubtful he cares much for you at all. You're taking orders from a father you constantly dissapoint."

"Shut up!" Ari repeated, raising his gravely wolfen voice, "This is your last chance."

"To give up?" Brium scoffed, "Uh huh. That one's bouncing around in the system right now. We'll take a vote on it. Have to get the whole Senate together. Should be decided by next Thursday."

"You think you're so funny, don't you? You think you're so great," Ari hissed.

The Eraser behind Brium hissed a little, too. It was losing patience.

But so was Brium. And that was much, much more frightening.

And then Brium noticed something interesting from behind Ari; it looked a clearing. Possibly where Ari had landed, because there was no way he could've run out this far to cut Brium off, or land anywhere else in this forest with his ungainly wings and all.

It made sense. And it also restated how stupid Ari was. He had shown Brium the escape route. A glowing green EXIT sign couldn't have been more helpful.

If that Eraser hadn't stopped Brium here, he wouldn't run right by the clearing; missed his escape completely.

And instantly Brium had a plan formulated, approved, and ready for implementation.

He already knew that there were other Erasers en route; they would be here soon; he couldn't yet hear them, but he could feel them. Ari had no intention of letting him come quietly, even if Brium had wanted to (hahaha) and Brium knew full well that Ari would just relish the chance to beat the shit out of him. He was stalling, and Brium wouldn't play that game.

Besides, it was far too easy to verbally dance around Ari, and Brium was afraid it would soon get old. Too much of a good thing, and all.

Brium smiled, "I don't think, Ari my dear wolf boy... I know."

And he snapped the pistol up so it pointed behind him; he fired five times in about two seconds. It was more ammo than he normally used on a single target, but he made an exception because he never actually had visual confirmation of the thing.

But he knew it wouldn't be getting up.

And he was completely ready for Ari, who lunged at him, as Brium knew he would as soon as he popped his comrade.

Brium quickly grabbed Ari's right outstretched wrist, and spun around, hitting Ari in the back of the head with his right elbow. He then spun around completely once again, hitting Ari right in the nose with the handle of the pistol. Brium was big and Ari was much bigger, so the size battle was already over. But Brium was much, much faster, and big enough to do some serious damage.

Ari's nose shattered with a crunch, as Brium knew it would. It was his goal to have done so.

And that bought Brium all the time he needed; he jerked the pistol back into firing position, and put a bullet in each of Ari's kneecaps.

Brium let go of Ari's wrist, and let him fall face first to the ground. Brium aimed, and fired a bullet into each cheek of Ari's hairy ass.

Insult to injury. Brium grinned slightly in mild satisfaction.

He knelt down next to Ari, placing the barrel of the weapon to the wolf boy's temple, effectively letting him know who was in charge here. Not that Ari was really in much condition to do anything.

Brium roughly grabbed Ari's head, and lifted him up slightly to look him in the eyes when he spoke, "Tell Jeb I say 'hi'."

And he brought the pistol down on Ari's head. Only once. Just enough to knock him cold. Not dead.

Brium still had sympathy for the kid. Not much, but enough to not kill him.

And all was suddenly very quiet.

Except for a mild breathing.

From two foreign sources.

That one Eraser was still kicking.

Brium stood up, and walked over to the Eraser's bloody body. He was impressed; shot five times and still breathing.

Well, that's what you get for not looking at the target, Brium mused to himself. Hit five times in spots that weren't instantly lethal. Brium just watched the unconscious Eraser for a moment, studying it, considering it.

He had one bullet left. Five on this joker, four on Ari. How convenient.

He snapped the pistol up, and put the last bullet in the downed Eraser's forehead.

Bang.

The breathing stopped.

Forever.

The slide of the pistol locked back, and Brium calmly, ejected the magazine, placed it in his pocket, and pulled out another one. He locked the slide back into firing position with a flip of his thumb and then slammed the magazine into the small gun. No need to have one in the chamber. Not at this particular moment.

He pocketed the pistol, placing it carefully in the pocket that it was always in. He breathed deep, and closed his eyes, relishing the silence for a few blessed moments.

Then he heard the reinforcements.

Dozens of them, perhaps more. Probably more.

Brium sighed. Time to go.

He turned, and gingerly walked to the clearing. Covering the twenty-five feet with a pace that would imply he was out on an evening stroll. Brium smiled; a stroll. Just like Ari had said.

He arrived at the threshold of the clearing and cocked his head back to Ari's prone, unconscious body. It night vision was great, but it was so dark, he could barely see the winged Eraser.

"I'm strolling now, Ari," Brium almost laughed. It was pointless to talk; no one could hear him. But it did offer some satisfaction.

Brium looked up, wishing for stars, but knowing they weren't there to be found. Oh well. Darkness was better for cover, anyway.

And cover for flight was inexcusably important.

Brium unfurled his wings. It had been too long, he mused. Far too long since he had experienced the joy of flight. Almost twenty-four hours. An eternity.

Sixteen feet of wingspan, and boy did it feel good to stretch them out.

Brium leapt, and took flight. As soon as he was over tree level, he closed his eyes, and felt the wind race all around him, the sounds of the infuriated Erasers being left quickly behind.


	2. The Van

"Could someone please describe to me in twenty-five words or less what the hell kind of vehicle this is?" Iggy asked, thoroughly befuddled by the shag interior of the van.

The van that they had jacked not fifteen minutes earlier.

"I think it's some sort of seventies love van," Fang offered his two cents without looking up from the road. He was driving the vehicular abomination, and normally one has to watch the road to do so.

I surveyed my flock with tired eyes. They had been through so much, especially recently.

"Uh huh..." Iggy muttered, not convinced, "If by saying 'love' you mean the 'drugs are us' van, then I think you're on to something. Or even on something. Maybe both."

Fang shrugged, "Drugs, love. Don't split hairs."

It's like a Teddy Bear van!" Nudge exclaimed suddenly from the front passenger seat. She sounded proud of herself. I knew then why she had been so silent for the past... two minutes. She had been thinking of what exactly the van reminded her of.

"Teddy Bears, love, drugs. Don't split hairs," Iggy muttered, obviously mocking Fang, "So am I gonna get to drive this rapist wagon at any point, or what?"

I sighed, "No, Iggy."

"And why ever not?"

"Three guesses," I said, quickly losing patience. It wasn't my fault I was stretched so thin. After all that had happened? Could you really blame me? Hmm? I dare you to try.

That's right, you can't.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Iggy said, "I've so totally transcended any disabilities I have."

I rolled my eyes, a completely pointless gesture here, but I tried to treat Iggy with as much similarities as I treated the others.

But not driving. Hell no. Not in a billion years.

I sighed, "Please don't play games, Iggy..."

Iggy returned my sigh, "Alright... Just trying to keep spirits up and all that."

And I totally respected that. I just wasn't in the mood, I guess... I was beyond spirit-uplifting. I just needed to shill for a few minutes, and hopefully I'd be okay... Hopefully...

"Are we there yet?" the Gasman asked inquisitively.

"Yes," Fang said evenly.

"No, were not..." Gazzy seemed let down.

"Then why'd ya ask, dude?" Iggy inquired.

"Miracles can happen," Gazzy informed his older comrade.

"Yeah..." Iggy admitted, "They can. Just not to us."

I was surprised to find myself talking, "Don't be so pessimistic," I said.

"It's not pessimism, Max, it's a fact," Iggy said, launching into a soliloquy, "And I didn't even say it was bad. Way I figure it, we're due for a couple miracles'. And if we've gotten this far without them, which it would appear we have, then if we did get a miracle, we'd really be sitting pretty."

"Amen," Fang murmured quietly.

Amen, I said silently to myself. Amen.

Maybe a miracle would happen. Soon. Someday. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Someday... Wow, I was totally in a thought loop right there. Snap out of it Max. Why am I even having these disparaging thoughts? Why am I allowing them at all? I'm the freakin' leader here, right? Can't show the troops how freakin' demoralized I am. Then the battle (and war) are already hopelessly lost.

I sure as hell ain't giving up. Not after all that's happened. I'm gonna see it through, and drag these five kids with me. And the one dog. Him, too.

I'll put up the talking mutt as long as Angel does. Which would seem to be several potential lifetimes at this rate.

Speaking of which... Angel had been rather quiet for a bit. And so had Total, for that matter. I turned my head to see what that deal was there.

And I was pleasantly surprised, and somewhat touched.

Angel was sound asleep; her head rolled adorably to one side. Total was curled up in her lap, also asleep. My heart simply swelled with those feelings of immense affection; feelings that I imagine are similar to what a parent must feel. Angel is, for all intents and purposes, my baby. I love her to death. That's just how it is.

Sue me.

And then Nudge leaned over and laid on the horn. Again.

"Please don't do that," Fang muttered absent mindedly, as though he really didn't care if Nudge overused the horn or not, but merely saying not to as a favor the me.

Because he damn well knew that I didn't want to be driving down the highway in some hippie-van with the horn blaring.

"Oh, c'mon..." Nudge plead, "I'm just cheering things up."

"Good plan, bad execution," Iggy said.

"Seconded," I said, not being able to hide a smile.

"You guys are officially no fun. Like, at all," Nudge pouted.

"Nobody's perfect," I shrugged. Nudge pouted again.

"Are we there yet?" Gazzy was trying to jump on the 'cheering up' bandwagon once again.

But this time, I had to really try hard to suppress a smile.

"What's going on?" a sleepy voice floated to my ears, and I knew instantly that Nudge's horn antics had woken up Angel.

"Nothing, Angel," I assured her.

"Do you have to honk the horn every five minutes?" Total asked, also sleepy.

"Okey dokey, you're officially no fun, either," Nudge said, leaning over once again to blare the horn to again emphasis her somewhat flawed point of view.

But whoever said flawed wasn't amusing?

"What's in Dallas, anyway?" Gazzy asked.

"Cattle," Fang said.

"Illegal immigrants," Iggy said, nearly at the same time

I smiled, once again one hundred percent thankful for the cast of characters I had been blessed with. I turned to look back at Angel, and was happy to see that she was sleeping again.

I sighed to myself. It was going to be a long trip. Especially in this ridiculous van.

But not necessarily a bad one.

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Author's Note:

Alrighty. It occurred to me that I hadn't really described this story all that well. It'll sort of start as a parallel to the third book, with more detailed viewpoints on principle events to the main cast. There will be many other new scenes, which will flesh the story out much, much more, and of course there's the other storyline of Brium (the two stories will cross over at some point soon, and then collide every now and again) So yeah. Any questions? Comments? Concerns? Please state them. Thanks for reading!


	3. Over Denver

He looked down at the city below him with a sort of restrained awe. He had never once, not a single moment in his life, taken flight for granted. It was his blessing.

It was also coincidentally his curse. He took pride in the double-sided nature of the concept.

Brium took a breath, noting how cold it was. He was over the city of Denver, about three-quarters of a mile high, and it was dark enough that he had a minimal chance of being spotted by anyone.

He glanced left to right, searching. He knew what he was looking for, but no such luck as of yet. But the monotonous search left his complicated mind with loads of time to think. And he jumped all over the opportunity. How had the Erasers found him this time? He wondered once again if he had some sort of tracking device planted in him somewhere. That seemed likely, but he hadn't made time to get any X-ray done. That would require seeing some sort of licensed, normal person. And he had wings. Not exactly what normal Doctors were used to. No, he would continue living as he had done the past three and a half years: On the run, killing whomever followed. Except Ari. He still had sympathy for Ari.

Even though Ari had come after him three times now.

How many times would Brium have to cripple the poor kid before he was left alone?

Brium had been 'created' at the School. He used the word 'created' because he had yet to figure out a better way to classify his emergence into the world. Created... It would have to do. He was one of the first of his kind, and had been told many years prior that he was one of the best examples of. He had been brutally trained at the School, brutally educated there, and then (brutally) escaped from there at age thirteen.

He was right in the middle of his forty-first month of freedom. He was still enjoying it.

Ari... Brium remembered quiet clearly of what Ari was like as a (completely human) kid. Kind of irritating, sure. But basically harmless. He was Jeb's son, and that unfortunately was inexcusable. Brium didn't know just how to classify Ari's father. Was he an evil man? Many would say so. Brium had just decided to avoid him completely. He was evil enough, and because of that Ari couldn't be trusted.

And then they had tried making an Eraser out of the kid. Brium had been surprised when he had first laid eyes on the new 'improved' Ari. Before he broke the wolf boy's left arm and shot him twice in each shoulder.

Brium's thoughts drifted back to Jeb. He hadn't seen the guy since his initial escape, and much time it seemed had passed. But Ari had said that Jeb wanted to see him.

Interesting.

Brium sighed to himself; a pointless gesture, though he attempted to do as many of those as possible, because he blended in much better that way. Rolling eyes, shrugging, things like that were the... human things to do in a given circumstance that called for them.

And it all had to work to best preserve his freedom.

Freedom... Brium was free, but he knew that others weren't. He had escaped by himself. He was still ashamed of that. There were others like him at the School, and he had left them; essentially abandoning them. He felt remorse for his inactions, but he knew that he was much better off on his own.

But miracles can happen. Brium allowed himself a smile, a pointless gesture, but one he did enjoy. Others had escaped just like he had. Others that were just like him.

One group of Erasers that he had... removed from being any sort of threat, had told him that others like him had escaped. They referred to these escapees as 'the flock'. Why had they mentioned this? Probably to scare him. They had said that 'the flock' AKA several other avian-mutants had gotten out of the school, been recaptured, and punished. Severely. He was told that if he cooperated and came quietly, he would be spared any punishment.

His reply was to swiftly kill all eight of the Erasers.

That was two years ago. They still hadn't given up.

Brium looked around at the lit city below him. He was circling over the outskirts, looking for a building that best suited what he was after.

A church in a small residential suburb would be perfect... He needed somewhere to gather his bearings, and a House of God would be a good place to go. Not to mention a church might just be open at this hour. And (not to mention again) Brium had some questions he would like to ask the Priest or whoever was in charge of the place. He was taking a poll of sorts.

More on that later.

Brium's thoughts drifted back to his thirteen years (and some change) at the School. He had been raised alone. With little contact with anyone besides the 'scientists' directly associated with the experiment known as his life. He had seen Ari only a handful of times, always during one of Jeb's visits, and he had seen only one other mutant like him. When he was ten, he was paired with some kid named Fang in a fight to the death with four Erasers. The two bird kids had won. Fang was young, and didn't fight so well, but Brium was by then already quite adept. The pair had won mainly on Brium's skills with Fang serving as more of a distraction then anything else. Brium never saw Fang again. Or anyone else even remotely like him.

But they existed. He knew that. What he didn't know, until recently, was that not only did more like him escape, they hadn't been recaptured at all. Brium read the news as much as he could, and for an interesting few days the papers had been splashed with pictures of 'bird kids' as they had been called. So, unless someone was pulling an amazingly coincidental, complicated prank, then there were indeed others out there.

He had counted six of them, though defining features had been difficult to spot, so he guessed Fang wasn't among them. He was probably dead. Life spans at the school were short. Brium knew that, as he had killed more than his fair share of School creations.

Anyway, Brium hadn't yet decided if he should seek these fellow freaks out. He had been alone for his whole life. Even more so during the past three and a half years (a price of freedom that he paid gladly) and he didn't know if being around others would be for the best.

Not to mention since he was busy tying to build a plan to bring down everyone involved with his creation. He tried several ideas so far, and none seemed to work anywhere near as well as he had hoped. So, for a while, he had just settled into the routine of killing anything that dared to come after him. Annoying his creators would have to suffice until he figured something else out. Many of his plans involved bloodshed, and he didn't want to drag others, especially some of the only others like him, into a conflict where they'd be in danger.

They had survived at least two years on their own, so he wasn't particularly worried about their safety. Perhaps best to just leave them be.

Brium glanced to his left, and spotted a church that looked somewhat removed from general areas of population. He hoped it was open.

He swerved silently, and searched for a dark place to land.


	4. Requirements

Brium landed in a field outside of what looked like a darkened store that sold carpets or something. He checked it over, quickly determining that the store was closed, and no one was home. He folded his wings up, and they vanished in the twin slits that he had cut down the sides of the black jacket he wore. He then checked quickly with a glance, and a feel with his hand to make sure that his means of flight were tucked safely out of sight; they were. He had done this on many occasions.

He then waited silently in the dark, next to the quiet road. He waited for anything to make a sound. He waited precisely two minutes, was satisfied, and began his casual trip to the church, which was a quarter mile away; the only sounds were that of the wind, and of his steps on the cold sidewalk.

Oh yes, he finally admitted to himself, is was indeed very cold. Winter in Denver, Colorado. He had dutifully ignored how cold it was during flight; best to keep his mind of such obstacles. It was much easier to concentrate on objectives if one ignored such things.

It was easily below freezing. Brium smiled; he liked the cold. He liked the way one could see their breath, projected out like a mist. It was soothing. Brium liked soothing things.

He mentally started playing his favorite track from his favorite album in his head, and he smiled. Sometimes the world can be quite beautiful if one just opens their eyes and gives it a chance.

The church was drawing close now, and Brium once again hoped it would be open. If it wasn't, Plan B would have to be put into effect.

His thoughts turned once again to his predicament in life. What was he living for? He was alone, he had no obvious purpose to exist. As far as he could tell, he was a science experiment, who was only created to answer a "what if?" question. He had no true reason to be alive. And that was his motivation. He had promised himself while still a captive of the School, that would do something to justify his existence in this world. It was a pretty hefty promise, considering he was nine years old when he made it.

Brium looked up at the church, and smiled wider; it was a very normal looking church, with stained glass windows. Some lit by a dull electric candlelight, that shone through the panes with a yellow glow. He walked up to the door; he reached out and grasped the freezing handle, and with minimal effort, pulled it open.

He continued smiling, for at this moment, the Lord was smiling upon him. If you believed in such things.

Brium swung the door open, and stepped inside. He was greeted by numerous candles, and the multiple benches of the large, open room. A typical House of God. He maneuvered until he found a place that suited him; about the middle of a bench a half dozen rows up from the door, which clicked shut behind him a few moments before he sat down. There was no one else sitting anywhere on any of the other church benches, but Brium knew he wasn't alone. He took a deep breath, and held it, snapping his eyes closed, and tilting his head back. He was just gathering his wits, though it was probably a strange sight to see at two in the morning.

And for Father Richard Neville, it was a strange sight indeed.

Father Neville was the pastor of this church. He was good at his job, and he truly believed what he preached. He also loved his church, having become very attached to it during the sixteen years he had led sermons there. So attached, in fact, that during nights of restlessness, he would often stay late, reading or doing some other menial task that needed doing. He left the church open during his late nights so any passerby could stop in to deal with whatever issues that needed to be dealt with at a church past midnight.

Needless to say, Father Neville rarely had any visitors. But this night was different, it seemed. A young man had strolled in not two minutes ago, and was sitting alone in utter silence. Father Neville had watched with interest when the young man had entered (he was shamed to say he had jumped slightly) it had interrupted his reading, and Father Neville had quietly watch, fascinated at who exactly this was in his church.

The young man was tall, over six feet at least, and he wore a black jacket, a pair of what looked like green shorts (in this temperature?) with black shoes, with white ankle socks that were barely visible. He had now been in the church three minutes, and hadn't said a word. Father Neville wondered if he had been completely overlooked.

Which couldn't have been farther from the truth.

Brium had known Father Neville was there from the moment he had stepped inside. He breathed out, and wondered if the Father would say anything.

They were in minute number six when Father Neville did.

"Are you alright, my son?" Father Neville asked, marking his page, and putting his paperback down.

The young man gave a snuffled half laugh, and paused for a moment, considering the question, "Relatively," he said.

"Is something bothering you," Father Neville asked, noting that the young man hadn't reacted at all when he spoke. He was still leaned back, with his eyes closed.

Brium took a breath, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

Father Neville nodded, and stood up, walking to the young man. At first he wondered if this was a good idea, because for all he knew the young man could be dangerous. But if God wanted to take a faithful servant in a house that represented him, Father Neville was okay with that. He was fifty-nine years old, and an unwavering believer. He feared not death.

So he approached the young man and asked to sit down; he was answered with a slight nod.

"What troubles you, my son?" he asked.

Brium brought his head forward and looked at Father Neville. He smiled, "That's between me and God. Whenever he comes around could you let him know I was here?"

Father Neville smiled a tad and he realized that this young man wasn't being smart with him. He looked tired, and aged far beyond his years, and everything that he had said, and most likely would say, would be completely sincere.

"I will," Father Neville said, "But you can always tell me."

"Right, because you're a messenger," the young man said. It wasn't a question.

Father Neville nodded, "Yeah. Something like that."

"Thank you Father, but I may be able to tell him personally, soon..." Brium paused, "Anyway, I'll just sit here for a couple minutes. And then I'll leave."

Father Neville nodded, "Is there anything at all I can help you with?"

"Yes," Brium said, "Yes, actually there is... I was wondering, Father, what are the requirements for one to possess a soul?"

"What do you mean?" Father Neville asked, curious at what this young man had to say.

"What kind of person does one have to be to have a soul?" Brium said.

Father Neville blinked, "Everyone is born blessed with a soul. Everyone has one," he said.

"Born with one," Brium replied, "And there's the dilemma," he smiled.

"I don't understand," Father Neville conceded with a slight shake of his head.

Brium smiled; an understanding smile, "I didn't expect you would." Brium lost his smile, and thought for a moment to figure out how best to clarify, "Suppose one was born not by any natural means. Suppose one was... created not by any natural means... Would one still have a soul?" he asked, looking the Father right in the eye.

The question was something Father Neville had never faced. What kind of chain of events in someone life could originate such question? But yet the young man seemed so sincere. He wasn't asking to waste Father Neville's time. He was asking for a very specific reason.

It took nearly twenty seconds of silence for Father Neville to think it all through and come to some conclusions.

The young man waited patiently the whole time, never showing impatience.

"I suppose," Father Neville said, "it would come down to what someone does with his life. If something or someone is created... but not any natural ways, and if he has intelligence enough to think his actions through and reason what he wants to do… If he modeled his decisions on what was most commonly believed to be right, and if he showed remorse over his failures, then yes. He would have a soul. And of course what his decisions, what he does with his life, would decide what the fate of his soul would be after he moves on. He has control over his own fate. Just like anyone else… So yes... he would then have a soul."

The young man said nothing for a few moments, and Father Neville waited, wondering what sort of reaction his answer would bring.

Brium smiled, and stood up, "Thank you, Father," he said, only a notch above a whisper.

And then he turned to leave.

Father Neville noticed that the young man's jacket was incredibly torn; he wondered why, but he didn't ask.

In fact, he didn't say a thing. He just watched as this fascinating young man (Father Neville hadn't managed to get his name) walked away as quietly and with as much purpose and drive as he had demonstrated walking in.

Brium paused in front of the door, and cocked his head slightly to see an empty wooden collecting bowl placed on a desk. He stopped walking.

Father Neville watched silently as the young man pulled out a wallet (a very quick, percise move) and flicked a couple of bills into the collecting bowl.

He then opened the door, stepped outside, and was gone when the door clicked shut.

Father Neville didn't move for a few moments. What had just happened? It was the most unique religious experience (can it even be called that) of his life. He didn't know if it was good or bad, or what it meant at all.

After several minutes, Father Neville got up to gather whatever money the young man had deposited in the collecting bowl. He would put it in the church safe, and he would call it a night. He got to the bowl, and was expecting a couple of ones; whatever change the young man had on him. But that wasn't the case. Not at all. The whole situation only got more intriguing, Father Neville realized.

There were ten crisply folded hundred dollar bills in the collecting bowl.

------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

I'm trying to keep chapters relatively short (this one not so much. Oops) because I'm trying to get people to read it before it gets to long. It needs reviews! Otherwise people just won't read the thing.

Does anyone have any ideas on public relations to help advertise stories? I've always been bad at that…

Anyway, hope it's enjoyable so far, and thanks for reading!


	5. Second

"Okay, please run that one by me one more time," I said, too confused to be losing patience, though that's exactly what I should've been doing. Fang had better have a damn good explanation for this one. I don't recall him falling on his head, though I don't watch him every single second, so who really knows what the kid does in his spare time? Blogs, falling on his head. He must have one busy day.

"We go to the football game," Fang replied simply.

"Uh huh," I replied, holding all of my exasperation in. It wasn't easy, lemme tell you.

"Do you want to get spotted?" I asked him.

"Yes," Fang said, "Do you need me to draft a mission statement for the whole thing? That'll take me a sec but I'll do it."

I blinked. What the hell had gotten into Fang? "Uh, yeah, how 'bout no?" I said, "I dunno if anyone sent you the memo, but we don't go seeking attention. Hence the whole 'on the run' thing."

"Well, it's not hard to get out of the stadium. In fact, it'd be easier for us," Fang said, "Get spotted, get some airtime, literally and figuratively, and leave... C'mon, it'll be fun."

Fang certainly seemed to have an incredibly damaged view of what 'fun' was.

We were just leaving the Kennedy memorial thingy (it was so depressing) and we were just about set to roam aimlessly around Dallas. And Fang just wouldn't let this football excursion go.

And neither would anyone else in the Flock.

Darn them all.

They were all paying rapt attention to the Clash of the Titans (myself and Fang) wondering if we would once again go out of our way to something inordinately stupid. Why did everyone always insist on doing something that was sure to get us in a fix? I just didn't understand it.

"I don't think going into a massive stadium and being crammed in with thousands and thousands of people would be fun, Fang," I said, perturbed.

"I don't see why we shouldn't go!" Nudge threw in her opinion. It sounded rather blurted out, and I knew it was from the buildup of not talking for several minutes.

"Second," Iggy said.

"Yeah, I wanna go!" the Gasman added.

"Second," Iggy said.

"We should go. It'd be fun, and we'd maybe get to show off again," Fang said.

"Second," Iggy said.

"Stop that!" I snapped, glancing at Iggy who was smothering a smile at having aggravated me even more than normal.

"Second," Iggy said.

I sighed, "Well why do you wanna go so bad anyway?"

"Three guesses," Iggy said, and I was thankful that his streak of seconds had come to an end.

"I don't know," I conceded.

"Cheerleaders!" Iggy almost shouted, waving his arms to try to emphasis the vast importance of this statement.

Fang pointed to Iggy, "See? There ya go. We should go."

"Second," Iggy said.

"You can't even see the cheerleaders even if we went!" I snapped at Iggy, trying to ignore Fang.

"Oh, don't even discriminate, dude," Iggy muttered, and I knew by his tone he wasn't really hurt by my remark. He was enjoying my brutal dethroning as leader by the mutinous Fang; he knew the mutineers were winning, so nothing I said could make him feel bad.

Yeah they were winning. I'm not perfect, okay?

"Discrimination is so totally evil," Iggy continued, "In fact, I'm gonna discriminate the discriminators. That'll show ya."

I noticed that both Angel and Total had stayed out of this one so far. I wondered if Angel was trying to mind make me go through with this. She was up to something...

She probably heard me think that...

"I think we should go," Angel said.

There was a slight pause as I tried to figure out how to respond to that. I didn't bother me to snap at Iggy or Fang, or maybe even Nudge or Gazzy if they really deserved it, but Angel was different.

I was just about to reply when Iggy cut in.

"Second," he said.

"Please?" Nudge and Gazzy said at the same time. It was almost creepy, actually. Like, Children of the Corn creepy.

I looked at Fang, and he wasn't even trying to hide his smile. He had rallied the masses, stormed the castle, and beheaded me. So to speak. And he was freakin' happy about it. But whatever.

Screw it; I threw in the towel.

"Fine!" I said, trying to sound as upset about it as possible, "But I swear something'll happen and I don't want any complaints from any of yo when it does, okay?"

"YES!" Gazzy shouted, pumping his fists into the air.

"I love you, Max!" Nudge said, smiling.

"Second," Iggy said.

"Thank you, Max," Angel said quietly.

I turned and offered my baby a half-hearted smile.

"Thank you, Max," Fang said, even more quietly than Angel had.

I looked at him, and he looked back. There was so much happening behind those eyes. I wish I knew just half of what it was.

I'll ask later.

We walked along the sidewalk entering the outskirts of Dallas, and man was it warm. I mean, almost unnaturally warm. I tried to ignore it. But damn was it hot. Why did we come here of all places?

Oh right, because we had to go somewhere. And we'd been almost everywhere else it seemed. So Texas... Why the hell not?

Being on the run sucked, I told myself for maybe the thousandth time during our adventure.

"I'm hungry," Nudge reported.

What else was new?

"Alrighty," I muttered, "Everyone start looking out for a place to eat."

"I'll give it a whirl," Iggy muttered back.

"Look! Donuts!" Gazzy said, pointing like he had just spotted Bigfoot or something.

"Yeah, alright," I said, not even needing to glance around to know that everyone was staring at me, waiting for me to make a decision. The curse of being in charge, I suppose.

"I want a jelly filled one," Total said.

So the talking dog was talking again. It had been a while, I noticed. I wondered if a cat had had his tongue.

Ha ha ha...

I led our intrepid little group into a Krispy Kreme for what would be maybe the most unhealthy lunch in the history of the world.

But it was worth it to see them all so happy.


	6. Morning in Denver

The person managing the Motel seemed agitated to see him, which didn't make any sense at all in his opinion.

Granted, it was nearly three in the morning when he arrived, and the manager appeared to be sleeping, so Brium had taken the liberty to wake the man up and request a room.

Agitated to be woken up, and to be doing the job he was suppose to be doing minus the sleeping.

Didn't make any sense to Brium at all, but, like always, he was polite with the irked man anyway, paying for the room for a single twenty-four hours, cash up front; his flawless I.D. (stating he was twenty-one years old) got him into the Motel 6 easily.

He was flattered that he could pull of being four years older than he was, but he did concede that he probably looked like a young twenty-one.

As for the I.D.'s story, well, that one's for later.

Brium had arrived to his room (room 47 in a quiet corner as per his request) and had proceeded to get a quiet nights sleep. Of five hours.

He kept the pistol under his pillow.

Brium awoke at seven minutes past eight (late for him normally, but considering the circumstances of the previous night, he let it slide) and had gone to a Denny's for breakfast.

Brium had once read that infielder Fernando Tatis (then playing for the St. Louis Cardinals) had once hit two Grand Slams in the same inning. Brium hadn't, however, heard of someone eating three Grand Slam breakfasts in one sitting.

Until he did it.

It occurred to him about three-quarters of the way through the second Grand Slam, of just how hungry he was.

He hadn't eaten since dinner the previous night, and that was quite simply an eternity ago.

And he burnt through calories like fire eats through dry firewood.

Especially after all the running and killing of the previous night.

And it was that thought, that forced Brium to put his fork down and pause for a moment.

He felt bad for the Erasers he had killed last night. He felt bad for every Eraser he had ever killed. Though all of them had either been trying to kill him, or rob him of his freedom (which the end result would more than likely be death after prolonged torture (so even worse then simple death when all was said and done)) Brium still felt sorry for them.

They hadn't, after all, chosen that life; their path had been chosen for them, and they were only doing what they had been told and trained to do. For all they knew, they were the good guys and Brium was evil.

And Brium understood that.

He understood that perfectly.

Which was why he killed them as quickly as possible.

He considered it an act of mercy, rather than anything else.

True, yes, that by killing an Eraser, Brium made absolutely sure that that particular Eraser would never trouble him again. That was true, but Brium's reasoning was much, much more than that.

Brium had been told once (by Jeb, actually) that Erasers had a maximum life span of about six years. And then they would parish.

Six years of doing whatever evil the scientist had the school demanded they do, and then they died.

What a life.

What a death.

So Brium killed them, to put them out of their non-chosen, cruel existence, and to make sure others like him wouldn't suffer and harm at that Eraser's claws.

Like maybe the flock, for instance.

The flock...

Brium had heard the Erasers that had approached him two years ago mention the escapees by this name, and it was the only referral to them he had.

So that's what he called them.

Brium picked up his fork with immense grace and sliced a bit of egg, spearing it and popping it into his mouth.

He loved eggs. They tasted good, were chocked full of protein and the like.

And (best of all) the simple irony of him, Brium, eating eggs was just to good to avoid.

He lamented that only he could laugh at this, so that meant not laughing at all.

Unless the flock ate eggs, too.

He just couldn't seem to get them off of his mind.

So he decided to take on the subject full force here and now in a Denny's that had the faint smell of cigarettes (it had to be very faint, because Brium's sense of smell was very good).

He had celebrated that confirmation of the flock's existence with a restrained joy; he wasn't alone in this world. No, no, there were others.

Just like him.

Just... like... him...

The thought was almost too much to bear without cracking a massive grin (which Brium did, around a mouthful of bacon)

But this all came with a potential downside. One that Brium had thought about instantly as soon as he had picked up the newspaper with the six blurred bird kids in a grainy black and white picture.

If they weren't a coincidental hoax (which Brium did doubt strongly) then it meant several things.

One, they were the real thing: Other escapees from the School, on the run, and being rather careless.

Or two, they worked for the School itself, and were a potential way to draw him, and other potential escapees out to the open.

Brium wanted to meet these kids that were just like him; he dearly wanted to.

But he knew that that was just the kind of thing the School would do to draw him out.

He would find them, go to meet them, and fall into a subsequent trap; then be captured, etcetera, etcetera.

But then again, the School would have to be really desperate to reveal anything at all related to their operations. And six flying kids sat right near the top of the 'don't reveal' list.

All of which meant, Brium thought, taking a sip of orange juice, that these kids were the real winged escapee deal.

Did he want to meet them?

Yes, he certainly did.

Did he want to seek them out and let it be known for only the second time who he really was?

No, not just yet.

The first time had ended disastrously, even though it wasn't to a winged mutant, but rather a pure human.

More on that later.

Brium finished his meal, tipped his waitress thirty percent, and left.

He still had nearly two thousand dollars left in his pocket, and it was high time for what he considered to be the only kind of shopping spree he ever did.

There was a Wal-Mart about a fifteen minute's walk away, and he stretched it into twenty. Brium loved being in civilization; loved the feeling of being alive, and being among countless other people, and (embarrassingly) imaging for a few moments every now and again what it would be like to live this life permanently; every single day. Sometimes it was good to let the imagination run wild.

Brium arrived at the Wal-Mart with an already set and memorized shopping list.

He bought a black sweatshirt hoodie and a black medium jacket, (much like the one he wore) a black medium sized backpack, three pairs of white ankle socks (they came packaged together) and (to his satisfaction) a pair of camouflaged shorts that had even more pockets then the ones he currently wore. Walking to the men's department, he had been 'checked out' he supposed the term was, by two very attractive girls who had to be skipping school to be here today. He smiled, gave a nod, and continued along his way.

Girls had always seemed to like him.

He had no idea why.

Brium then bought some various food supplies (not much, just enough to snack on) and a carton of chocolate milk. He had then politly asked the cashier if their was a sporting good store nearby, and she had said yes, there was. And she gave him directions.

Another ten minute walk away.

Brium easily stretched it to fifteen, sipping the chocolate milk with his Wal-Mart objects carefully filed away in his new backpack. he had lost the previous backpack the night before.

He walked up to the middle-aged mustached man behind the counter at the firearms and knifes section. He smiled at the man, "One twenty round box of nine millimeter parabellum, please,"

The man eyed him, and Brium hoped his 'age' of twenty-one would be convincing.

"Grain?" the man asked. "And I'll have to see some I.D."

"One fifteen," Brium said, smiling. "And certainly."

The man gave a nod and turned his back to face the stacks of boxed bullets.

"Having a good day," Brium asked, handing the man his I.D just as the man grasped the requested ammunition, and turned back.

The man deposited the box on the clear glass counter, took the I.D. card and shrugged, "Y'know. The usual."

Brium nodded, "Yes sir, I do."

The man gave a slight smile at Brium's tone, which was quite welcoming. He checked the card, looked back at Brium, and was convinced. "Anything else for ya?"

"Yes, Brium said, "A Spyderco Harpy knife, if you have one."

"Actually you're in luck; we have one," The man said, digging under many boxes of knives to find the requested one. "Don't get many requests for this one," he said.

Brium smiled, "No, I'd imagine not." Brium paid for his things at the main counter, where his I.D. was once again requested.

It was once again approved.

Brium deposited the items into his backpack, and walked back through the busy suburbs of Denver to get to his motel. He paid for another night, thinking 'why not?' The Erasers probably didn't know where he was (he had been careless last night) and he considered himself to be safe for one more night.

Brium arrived at room 47, and stepped inside.


	7. Game Time

It was game time!

Don't let my utterly fake excitement fool you for single second. I was absolutely hating every single moment that I was here.

Anyway, don't let my utterly real anger scare you away, either. 'Here' was about a half mile away from the aptly named Texas Stadium, where this football game was going to take place. It would take us a bit to get there, because the streets were just packed with rabid fans. And I use the word 'rabid' with extreme emphasis. The people were simply coming out of the freakin' woodwork! I'm not even kidding!

We had been some extremely populated places, but Dallas, Texas around football time had to be right near the top of the list.

And Fang had wanted to come here.

And I had let him drag me and the rest of the flock with him.

I seriously needed to get my head checked. I had been bullied into this by the people I was trying to protect! I had let it happen!

How hard would it have been to simply say, "No, guys, we ain't going to a freakin' football game."? Not very hard, you would think.

But...

It had been hard to say no. Really hard. Especially this time.

What the hell?!

Was I getting soft? Were the months of fleeing constant danger while trying to figure out who exactly we were finally catching up with me?

These were the thoughts that circled around me like irritating insects as I led my intrepid little flock through the nearly packed streets of Dallas to go to a football game. Thoughts were really pesky these days, it seemed to me. Life as of late had given my mind absolutely loads to chew on.

I mean, let's just start this little thought parade with some certain 'saving the world' business. And that's a starting point. That's just the first thing on my mind right now.

I mean, come on. I'm fourteen years old people, and I gotta carry around the weight of saving all of you, or something. What exactly am I supposed to do to save the world? Is Jeb just bullshitting me and making the whole thing up? Why would he do that, just to have the fun of screwing with me?

Okay, that was the first thing.

Second, were was the Voice? It had been awhile since I'd heard the annoying mofo.

Yeah, I have to save the world, and I have a voice in my head.

And then there's the wings, which I'm sure I don't even have to mention at this point.

When life deals you a bad hand, it really goes all out, it seemed to me.

Thirdly, and this one wasn't so bad but it was still a little unsettling, was where on Earth were all the Erasers?

I mean, I'm not saying that their being mysteriously absent is a bad thing. No, not at all! I'm just saying it's weird to not be constantly harassed by them.

This had so far been the longest amount of time during our few months of running about the country doing stuff that he hadn't had at least one altercation with the things.

Weird, right?

So, we have the wings (duh) the saving the world thing, the voice that blatantly states with its presence that I may or may not have schizophrenia, and then the sudden and bizarre absence of our primary foe and visitor... So many weird things all compounding on each other.

It's enough to make you wanna run for the hills, am I right?

But get this, we weren't.

No, no. We were far too busy going to a football game.

Absolute brilliance in my humble opinion.

"I am so excited!" Nudge squealed, and I mentally gave her the 'the biggest statement of the obvious of the year' award.

"Me, too," the Gasman also threw in.

Well, at least they were all having fun… apparently.

"I want a hotdog when we get inside," Total sniffed.

I had always found it funny that it a group consisting of six bird kids with a massive metabolism, and a single talking dog, that it was the dog that brought up eating the most.

And of course, (thank you, Total) it set of a chain reaction.

"I want a hotdog, too." Nudge said, "They're supposed to be soooo good at football games!"

Where she got this idea (granted, it was the correct one) I had no idea.

"I want one, too!" Gazzy said.

Hotdogs all around, apparently. Fang and Iggy didn't even have to state that they wanted one; they did. And I'm pretty sure that Angel wanted one as well even though she was rather silent about the whole thing.

What was with her, recently?

And, yeah, I'd get a stupid hotdog, too. I can't have people eating good food around me, or I get hungry, too.

I'm only human, okay? Well... enough of a human, anyway.

We arrived at Texas Stadium, and low and behold there was a mammoth line to get inside.

I could tell Nudge was just about to complain about waiting in line, and I cut her off, "Yeah, no," I said. "We're going to the game, so I don't want to hear any complaints."

Nudge shut her mouth and blinked several times, putting on the pantomime of complete innocence.

I could tell instantly that she was going to repeat her wanting of a hotdog.

"Yes, we'll get you a hotdog," I said, instantly turning to Gazzy, who was just opening his mouth.

"We'll get you one, too," I said, beating him to the chase as well.

I don't brag too much, but I will say that I know my flock pretty damn well, thank you.

"Come, on Max, smile," Fang said, actually smiling a bit himself, perhaps hoping to spread it to me.

"Yeah, Max. Smile," Iggy added, "You're so pretty when you smile."

How Iggy could prove or disprove this was questionable. He was probably just messing with me.

He liked to do that.

I sighed, "Okay, everyone," it was time for the 'before we go into potetial danger' speech, "I want everyone to keep any eye out for anything suspicious and out of the ordinary."

"What, like six bird kids and a talking dog?" Iggy asked, "Actually... I think I see 'em."

"You know what I mean," I responded. I may have been currently annoyed by Iggy, but I still admired (as I always had) the fact that he ignored that he was blind almost completely. It was really neat, actually.

But I was still annoyed with him.

"And keep your voice down," I snapped, wondering if anyone heard the remark 'bird kids'. I wasn't worried so much about the 'talking dog' part, because, come on, who would believe that?

"I just want everyone to not get caught up so much in the game that you don't pay attention to what's going on around you," I said.

I was just trying to make sure they were safe. Did they have to give me such a hard time about it?

Iggy was about to, but Fang cut him off, "Okay, Max," he said, "we will. Don't worry so much."

Yeah, I thought, try telling me not to worry and see how far you get.

"We'll be okay," Angel said from right beside me.

I turned to her and looked into her beautiful eyes. Fang telling me things would be okay was one thing, Angel telling me things would be okay was another thing entirely. It was believable coming from her.

"Okay... I know, I just want to be sure," I said.

"I know. Thank you," Angel said.

"No problem." I turned to see where we stood (no pun intended) in the line situation. We were getting there. Another few minutes, now.

"And Max?"

"Yep?" I glanced back at Angel.

"I want a hotdog, too."


	8. L'Apocalypse Des Animaux

Brium popped open a bottled water (that he found in his room's refrigerator, knowing he'd be charged for it) and took a sip, savoring the clean tastelessness.

It was time to begin his self-assigned tasks.

He moved quickly to the motel bed where he had placed his newly acquired backpack, and he dug the contents out.

The bullets first, the clothing second. He left the snack foods where they were.

First, he had to be rearmed.

Brium removed his pistol from his right pocket and placed it on the bed. Next, he pulled the three extra magazines (one loaded) out of his left pocket, and placed those next to the pistol.

He opened the box of 9MM bullets and smiled.

They came packaged in twenty or fifty round boxes mostly, and he had used exactly twenty rounds the previous night.

Sometimes life works out.

He picked up an empty magazine, and began thumbing the 9MM bullets on by one to fill it. It only took about twenty seconds to do, and that was at a very relaxed, slow pace.

He loaded the other empty magazine and threw the now empty box away in the room's small garbage can. Reaching to his shopping bag, he pulled out his new camo shorts and tore the tags of of them. He then emptied his pockets.

The gun and magazines were already on the bed, so that left his black leather wallet and his new harpy knife.

Brium removed his old shorts, pulled his black leather belt off of them, and put on the news ones, fitting the belt back on. He gathered his wallet and placed it in the right back pocket, and then picked up the extra magazines and put them in his front left one.

He extracted the fourth magazine from the pistol and locked the slide back, holding the gun to the light to check for any obstructions.

There weren't any.

He relocked the slide, and reloaded the pistol, placing it with care in his front right pocket of his new shorts.

It occurred to him (for the many thousandth time) that the pistol was perhaps the only thing that could be considered a friend that he had ever had.

The gun was a Millennium Taurus PT111 obviously chambered in the 9MM cartridges that Brium had bought. It was quite a small gun, used for it's concealability.

Brium had acquired it fifteen days after his escape from the school.

One of the first things that came after him after his escape was perhaps even worse than an Eraser: it was a Private Contractor. A human bounty hunter working for the school.

The man had been armed with the pistol, and the man hadtried to pull it out, forcing Brium to brake his arm, knock him unconscious and relieved him of the firearm and it's three extra magazines. He had then escaped when Erasers had joined in.

The man was still alive somewhere; at least Brium hadn't killed him. Brium wondered what he had been up to all this time.

Brium pulled off his jacket, leaving only his black T-shirt and new shorts on. His wings were now obviously there.

He picked up the harpy knife and flicked it open.

The harpy knife has a serrated blade, and it's curved like a talon, thus giving it it's name. Brium had lost his old one the previous night when the Erasers had first jumped him. The first one to him had jumped the gun and attacked him too soon. The Eraser had surprised Brium enough, that the brute had knocked the pistol right out of Brium's hand (he was extremely annoyed at this) Brium had, in response to this attack, then flicked out his harpy knife, sliced the Eraser's chest, and embedded it to the handle in the Eraser's skull. Brium had then been presented with several options: One, leave the knife, retrieve the gun and book it, or two, try to get both items back. The rest of the Erasers had been so close, that Brium went with the latter choice, had abandoned his blade his backpack and everything in it (which wasn't much) and had sprinted into the forest.

The rest was history.

Brium picked up his new jacket, and skillfully cut the a slit on either side for his wings. He had done this procedure so many times, that he had gotten quite good at it, and his new jacket was ready for wear in only a couple minutes.

His old jacket and shorts were thrown away on top of the empty 9MM box. He didn't need them anymore.

He then did the double-slit on the new sweatshirt, and placed in in the backpack. He folded the harpy knife, and put it in his left thigh pocket.

Brium was done.

He looked around the motel room; one more night he would spend here. It was a nice enough place, Denver. He decided then to order that CD.

He left the room, making sure it was locked, and had asked the front desk manager (to his relief, not the same person who had checked him in in the first place) and had asked if there were any music stores nearby. There was one, a healthy walk away, and the manager had provided moderately accurate instructions.

The walk had taken Brium a good hour, and it was an hour of bliss. Traffic noise, some birds; he passed a park, and had been slightly upset that there were no children playing there; they were all still in school.

Brium liked children. He was happy that the vast majority of them hadn't had childhoods remotely like his. They looked happy, most of the time. It was always nice to see that the world could indeed be a good place.

It was also nice to be reminded every now and again of what he had been robbed of.

He approached the music store, and was happy that it was pretty big. The selection would be good, though he didn't believe for a moment that they would have what he was looking for.

He walked into the store and bee lined directly for the main desk, operated by a guy a little older than he, who was of the emo persuasion.

"Hey," the music guy said, "Can I help you?"

"You may," Brium answered cheerfully, "I was wondering if you had a copy of L'Apocalypse Des Animaux, by Vangelis?" he said, his French pronunciation flawless.

"The what of the what?" the music emo guy asked.

Brium smiled, "L'Apocalypse Des Animaux," he repeated. "It's French."

"Uh huh... Never heard of it. Could you spell that, please?"

Brium did, and the music guy typed it into his inventory computer.

"No, we don't got that," he said, "We could order it if you'd like."

Brium had already expected this, "Please do."

He had just confirmed that he would be returning to Denver.

"Wow... It's a European import," the music guy said.

"Sounds about right," Brium responded, glancing around the store, spotting what else he was looking for.

"I'll be right back," Brium reported.

"Kay, dude," the music guy said, too enthralled in ordering the CD to look up.

Brium meandered over the CD player section, and had picked one out that had fit all his criteria (small-ish, good battery life, was black and had radio capabilities)

It had been one of the more expensive ones, though Brium cared very little about price.

He approached the main counter once again, and placed the CD player on it, swiping a pack of eight double A batteries from a nearby aisle as he did so.

"Alright, got it. Should be here in one to two weeks. I'll need your name to put on the order," the music guy said.

Brium gave the name on his I.D.

"Your number so we can get a hold of you?"

"I'll just be back in two weeks."

The music guy nodded, "Kay, dude. This all for ya today?"

"Yes. Thank you."

The music guy racked up the cost of the CD player and batteries and Brium paid.

"Is there a library nearby?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. There's one just a few blocks that way," the music guy pointed.

Brium smiled, "Thank you."

He left the music store headed to the library, memorizing easily the locations of everything to be sure he remebered where he was. He would be back here in two weeks.

After a few minutes of only his thought concerning certain other bird kids, Brium arrived at the library.

He decided to read the new Smithsonian magazine cover to cover, read a biography on George Henry Thomas then one on Ayn Rand. He had been delighted when he had found a biography for each person.

Brium checked the time on his dull silver Swiss Army watch; it was 1:27 PM. He had a little while to kill, deciding to skip lunch and have a large dinner later.

He took his three books to the reading section which had several armchairs.

Brium sat down, and began to read.

* * *

Author's Note: 

Go to Youtube, type in "L'Apocalypse Des Animaux" and listen to any of the songs. Or all of them. They're by Vangelis.

It's the music that Brium listens to, and you should too. It'll help get inside his head more.

Thanks for reading!


	9. Leaving Dallas

Alright, it's official. Completely official and voted on and confirmed and... and... Official!

I'm pissed at Fang, and that's just how it is and how it's going to be for awhile.

Sorry.

End of sentence, end of paragraph, end of freaking story.

How the hell did I let him talk me into that stupid, absolutely pointless stunt?

How!?

I must actually be losing my mind. Somewhere along the line, I must have just dropped it and hadn't noticed. That would be the only explanation for me to allow such utterly moronic behavior.

Oh, sorry. You must want to know what happened, and also maybe how our football excursion went.

Coincidentally and conveniently both can be explained in the same enraged manner. I shall attempt to control my rage (at both myself and Fang (mainly Fang)) during the duration of this explanation.

This is going to be intense.

I thought (and I did, I swear) that Fang's little jab at a 'publicity stunt' was a complete joke. The guy is a fan of football, and I honestly thought that he was going to sit quietly and enjoy the game.

Little did I know that he was serious, and before I knew it we were all over the big screen, and soon thereafter booking it.

Way to go Fang.

As if our display of ourselves in New York wasn't enough of a problem that we have to deal with this too. And by 'we' I mean 'me', because as the leader, it's my job to sort out all of the crap flung at us by our enemies, and every now and again (Fang, Fang, FANG!) by one of our own.

Now we're on the run (on the fly?) in Dallas. And now the whole freaking country knows about us, and it's not just one of those things you read in the Weekly World News, have a laugh and get on with your life. No, this is something that as of now, people are going to honestly believe. What do ya know? There's bird kids on the loose!

It's hard to keep in the shadows when fire is constantly being poked at your nose. How many times had I told them that?

But then, he knew that, and went against perhaps our second biggest rule (right after 'don't get caught'). And then he did it anyway. Because he had a plan.

Good for him.

But now what?!

Were we just supposed to fly around, trying to keep in hiding while also being celebrities? Was that the plan?

Why did I have no say in this plan?!

But then, Fang and I (as much as I hate to admit it) differed on some key issues.

He seemed to want to bring the Whitecoats down for good. A task which seems so highly unlikely that it's almost laughable. I mean it. I'm almost laughing.

While my humble goal, on the other hand, is to merely survive and try to live the semblance of a normal life.

Fang's heart is in the right place, but his head's so far up…

Well, you get it I'm sure.

Who's right here? Me, protecting us, or him putting us all out there to get picked off?

You decide.

"Max, are you mad?" Nudge spoke up from somewhere close behind me.

"No, not at all. I'm happy as can be!"

"Oh… Well for a minute there…"

I turned and glared, cutting off anything else she was going to say.

"Well, I dunno 'bout y'all but I think that was completely one hundred percent awesome," Iggy just had to throw in his two cents.

"Ditto," the Gasman added.

Fang just smiled.

But that was enough to really irk me.

"That wasn't awesome, people! That was stupidity at it's finest! What kind of 'plan' was that, Fang!" I was very nearly shouting. "What were you thinking?!" I demanded of Fang.

And he calmly replied, "I was thinking exactly what ended up happening. Personally, I think it went wonderfully."

I almost forgot how to fly for a moment, I was so baffled. "What?! Are you out of your mind?!"

"Maybe," Fang replied coolly. "And maybe that's just what we need."

I didn't even know how to respond to that, so I decided not tpo make an enraged fool out of myself trying to decipher Fang's bizarre logic. Instead, I concentrated on where we were going. And I was given a few blessed moments of silence by the flock, who knew full well how pissed I was.

Anyway, we were all in our usual formation, a good five thousand feet off the ground. We were heading to some hilly Dallas outskirts where we would chill for a while.

Until I figured out how best to proceed without Fang trying to bring us all down from the inside.

"Fang's not thinking that," Angel said, trying to disarm the bomb.

I whirled around as Fang raised an eyebrow; he glanced quickly from Angel to me. "What am I thinking?"

I stopped, coming to a hover and turned on Angel, who had to stop to avoid running into me.

I glared silently and she knew to shut it.

I turned back and resumed flying, and no one said a thing for a while.

"So, what now?" Iggy asked. Leave it to Iggy to say stuff when I didn't want people to say stuff.

"I don't know," I shot back acidly. I was tempted to add, 'why don't we let Fang decide' on the end of that, but knew he would take it to heart, and I was afraid the others might just go with it.

And I know you're listening, Angel, so keep on a lid on it.

I mean it.

But then it occurred to me that I wasn't mad at Angel. Or Nudge, or Gazzy. Or even Iggy. I was mad at Fang.

So, I'm sorry I snapped at you, Angel.

It was nice to not actually have to apologize to apologize.

Don't you say anything, Angel.

"Well, I had fun, anyway," Total said.

I almost jumped. Total had been silent so long (which was odd) I had forgot he was there; being carried by Iggy.

"Yeah," I said, sarcastically with a roll of my eyes thrown in for good measure.

"But we ain't doing it again anytime soon."


	10. Checking Out

Brium sat for a while at the library, reading his books and listening to the radio on his new CD player. Besides the CD he had just ordered, the radio was all he really listened to, so he had made sure that the player had one built in. It cost extra of course, but there's always price for everything.

And Brium paid that one most happily.

Speaking of paying, Brium thought to himself as he got up to leave the library, he was running out of money.

He had about fifteen hundred dollars left on him, and he wondered how long it was going to hold out. He wasn't normally the kind of person to care about such trivial things as money (and even now, he didn't really) but even he needed to be able to pay for things.

Brium would have to make a withdrawal from the bank at some point soon.

And no, Brium smiled at the thought, that didn't mean stealing, (though he knew himself perfectly capable of knocking over a bank) it meant actually walking into a bank and making a withdrawal from an actual bank account.

He had all the money he believed he would ever need in his lifetime already; all neatly stored away in a bank account.

How he had aquired it was an interesting chain of events indeed.

Brium smiled wider as he approached the Motel 6 where he made his temporary residence. He was feeling good today. It had been an Interesting (somewhat depressing (but also enlightening)) night, yes. But still, Brium felt good to be alive. He felt good to be walking amongst the people living in a city; he felt good to be buying cloths, and ordering CDs, and sitting in a library reading. It felt good to just be breathing. Brium noted that he would have to fly again soon to capitalize on his wonderful mood. If he felt like a million dollars just breathing, it must have to be a billion flying.

And when he rounded the corner, and the Motel 6 came into sight, all of that evaporated.

But he never once stopped moving; he never once stopped smiling.

And instantly, a plan was formed.

There was single white van parked in the Motel 6 parking lot.

Brium noticed it, and in less then a second had looked for more. With a quick glance around, he counted four vans in various places in the surrounding area. Most people wouldn't notice such things, even if they were looking, but Brium was something far different from the norm. Brium knew in about three seconds exactly the predicament he was in and exactly what he was going to do about it.

They had found him once again.

How the hell had they accomplished that?

Brium smiled, projecting his happiness with the world for all the see. He was already on the alert, ready for a fight. But he doubted very much that any Erasers would attack him in broad daylight in the middle of Denver.

Four vans, max of twenty-five to thirty-five Erasers, Brium estimated quickly.

They weren't playing around anymore.

And now neither was he.

Brium made his way, with the same pace as before, to room 47. They knew they had spotted him. Brium knew that they knew they had spotted him. But they had no idea at all that Brium knew they had spotted him.

He just continued pretending all was well, as he unlocked his room and went inside, flipping the lights on.

The blinds were already drawn, so that was good. That gave him the cover he needed. Then again, he had drawn them for that very reason. Always paranoid, but it always paid off.

Brium quickly and precisely put all of his belongings into his backpack; he was checking out. He went to the room's small refrigerator and extracted the water bottle he had opened but not finished earlier. He popped the cap off and took a sip, before screwing the cap back on.

He took one last look around the room to see if he had forgotten anything, though he already knew he hadn't, before turning off the lights, taking a breath to ready himself before he opened the door.

He already knew nothing was waiting to grab him; he would have heard anything approach. He supposed for a moment that some sniper could pick him off right there; bang. And it would all be over. But something told him that this was just another attempt to bring him back to the school.

They wanted him back.

Badly.

Alive.

And he knew that.

Jeb had told him once that he was one of the School's crowning achievements.

They wouldn't just kill him, would they?

Well, either way, he was about to find out; a few scenarios came to him as he rested his hand on the doorknob.

One, there was a sniper. He opens the door, a bullet hits him, game over. But they would have done that to begin with probably.

Two, there's a sniper again, but this time a tranquilizer gun. Brium knew that he may just be skilled enough to dodge a dart or maybe even catch it. Again, they would've probably done that before Brium had got to his room.

He made himself ready for that situation anyway.

Or three… And then Brium smiled. He smiled very widely.

Such a large number of Erasers maybe wasn't a capture force at all.

Maybe it was an escort.

He lowered his hand, and simply waited.

And Brium never stopped smiling; he knew exactly what was going on. And he only had to wait a few moments, he imagined, before it arrived.

He waited only eighty-seven seconds (he counted) before he heard footsteps. He had heard those footsteps before, and it confirmed his guess had been correct.

The footsteps stopped in front of his door, and Brium timed the amount of time it would take to raise an arm and knock.

And he opened the door before that chance was allowed.

Brium smiled; it was sincere. "Hello Jeb," he said.

And Jeb smiled back. "Hello, Equilibrium. It's good to see you again."

Brium politely moved aside, and waved his arm to beckon Jeb forward. "Do come in," he said.

"Thank you," Jeb replied, stepping into the motel room.

Brium closed the door and moved to the room's sole chair.

He sat, not taking his backpack off and he gestured to the bed, where Jeb obediently moved to sat as well.

"So what brings you here," Brium already knew was going to verbally destroy Jeb. He had been dancing verbal circles around the man for years. Granted it wasn't as easy dancing rings around Ari , but it was much more satisfying.

Brium thought for a moment that it was a bit odd he wasn't at all surprised to see the man that had been perhaps pivotal in his creation. He wondered why that was.

Maybe since he had been told that Jeb had wanted to see him, that the man was going to find a way to seek him out. And now here Jeb sat.

And Brium was going to find out why.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, that was.

Jeb smiled wider, "I wanted to talk to you."

"Then by all means please do," Brium replied coolly, unscrewing the cap on his water and taking another gulp.

Jeb sighed, "I want you to come back with me."

Right to the point.

Brium raised an eyebrow. "Back to the School?" he asked.

"Yes, back to the School," Jeb confirmed.

"And why on Earth would I do that?" he took another gulp of water.

"Because I want you to come back. You're more important to us then you realize. Then even we realized. You're more important to the world than you know."

"What a very convincing, inspiring reason."

"I'm serious."

"Of course you are."

Brium sighed, a new plan already formed.

"You didn't even say 'please'…" He sighed again, "How did you find me?"

Jeb smiled, "Well, it wasn't easy. Especially since you removed your chip and all."

Brium smiled again and took another sip of water. During his time in the School, he had always figured they had planted a tracking chip in him somewhere. Just in case. When he escaped it wasn't long before he had purposefully broke his right arm, went to a Doctor, got it X-Rayed, and set in a cast.

The X-Ray revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

Once that had healed, he broke his left arm, followed the same process, and bam. There it was. Something that didn't belong.

The tracking chip.

He had had to work very hard to convince the Doctor it was something other than what it was. It was a hell of a story, one to be repeated another time.

Brium had been immensely happy that he hadn't had to break either leg to X-Ray and try to find the tracking chip. In fact, he had been worried that if it wasn't in any of his limbs, he would have to get the rest of his body X-Rayed and that would take some explaining to a medical professional about just why he had wings.

And Brium hadn't wanted to kill anyone because they had discovered what he was, so that option had been saved for last, and thankfully never used at all.

Brium had had his fake ID all formulated by then, and he pulled off eighteen years of age just fine. He paid for it all the medical aid up front, and neither Doctor had suspected anything. He had then gone to a hotel, removed the tracking chip with a knife, and had moved on with his life. He still had the scar on his left arm as proof of this insane event.

Brium could then settle down somewhere for a while, which he did in California. He hadn't allowed himself to get comfortable anywhere until that chip was removed.

"How did you do that, exactly?" Jeb continued. "How did you know it was there at all?"

Brium ignored the question. "I don't believe you answered my question," was his response.

"All in good time, Equilibrium."

"Brium, please. Two syllables are far easier than five," Brium said, a little irritated. Jeb wasn't going to say anything without assistance. It was going to take some coercion. But Brium had predicted that, and it was just fine by him.

"Tell you what," Brium started his plan. "I don't want to talk here. I'm going to go for a walk, I think. I'll tell you where I'm going, and we'll talk there. Alright?"

"You expect me to believe that?" Jeb asked, giving a laugh of disbelief.

"Yes. I have never, ever not done something that I said I would do. And you know that." Brium finished his water, screwed the cap on and casually tossed the bottle across the room. It landed right in the small wastbasket with a 'thump'.

Jeb sighed, and Brium added, "Not to mention you have over two dozen friends just in case I try something. And you found me already. I'm sure you could do it again."

Jeb gave a laugh, honestly surprised that Brium knew around how many Erasers there were. "I forgot how incredible you were, Brium."

"No. You just overlooked once again how stupid you are," Brium smiled sweetly, standing up.

"I can't let you leave," Jeb said, also standing.

"Let me leave?" Brium almost laughed. "Let... me... leave? That option's not yours to dictate. You're welcome to try, but I wouldn't. Especially if you want to live, and not cause a firefight in Denver that would inevitably result in quite a few Eraser deaths. That won't be very good for your group's secrecy or your life in general, now would it?"

Jeb opened his mouth to argue, but he found no words to use. He knew what Brium was capable of.

"So, option one. I go for my walk. You live, your Erasers live, and your group stays in the shadows. Or two, you die right here, and your worries end. And I go for my walk anyway."

Jeb looked truly stunned; his eyes were wide, and his mouth was hung slightly open.

Brium smiled wider, "Your move."

"Fine. But you'd better keep your word or-"

"Or what?" Brium cut him off raising an eyebrow. "Or what, Jeb?"

Jeb was silent again.

"Don't worry. I'll be there. Oh, and 'there' would be Red Feather Lakes. Three hours from now," Brium said.

Brium raised his voice, "And for you Erasers listening in, I humbly suggest you play along."

He smiled, seeing a new wave of surprise emanated from Jeb. And knew then what he had figured in the first place: Jeb was more than likely bugged, and the Erasers outside were probably listening in. And Jeb's poorly hidden surprise at that comment had proved it.

"How will we find you there?" Jeb asked weakly. Both he and Brium knew who had command of the situation.

"Don't fret, Jeb. I'll find you just fine. See you soon," Brium said, opening the door and stepping out. "And tell Ari I say 'hi'. That is, if he didn't hear me already."

The last thing he saw of Jeb before closing the motel door was that same look of incredible surprise, and Brium then knew that he had once again verbally torn Jeb apart. It had been a long time since he had done that.

It felt wonderful.

Brium made his way unobstructed to the office, all of his belongings on his back. He checked out of the Motel 6 and asked where the nearest bus stop was.

All he had to do was get far enough away from the city to take off without being seen. Then it was a short flight to Red Feather Lakes, a place Brium had wanted to go and now had an excuse to do so.

He never stopped smiling as he walked to the bus stop.

Questions were going to be answered on this day.

* * *

Author's Note: 

I'm really thinking of changing the title of this story.

Should I?

Any advice?


	11. Tag

"So, what now?" Nudge asked.

It would've been a legit question, had she not already asked it a zillion times.

"Working on it," I responded, keeping my voice even. Though it seemed to me that every time Nudge asked me that, I became less and less sure of what exactly we were going to do next.

We had settles back into our hodgepodge little camp, and the whole group, and I mean the whole darn group was still excited about Fang's little speech about home finding.

Yeah, that's right. You heard me. Right after I left off the last time, Fang proposed to all of the wonderful advantages of having a home.

And now that was all that was being discussed.

At least it kept the flock of my back. Mostly. Nudge was so excited, she was asking me what we were going to do next every forty-ish seconds. That's right. I'm counting them.

And we're just about…

"Max, what do you think we should do now?"

There...

At least she mixed it up a little this time.

"I. Don't. Know. Nudge. I'm trying to figure that out."

I'm just sooooo excited about having a home! Aren't you?"

And I had to admit, the idea did have appeal. But we had so much to do. We had to find out who we were, why we were that way, what our purpose was, and maybe even bring down those responsible for all of the above. So much to do before settling down.

"Yeah, maybe a little…" I admitted to her. "But we have stuff to do, first."

"Like?" Nudge asked inquisitively.

I sighed, "I'm working on that, too…"

"Oh…" Nudge trailed off, as she glanced over at Iggy, the Gasman, Angel and Total all playing a rather barbaric round of tag.

It had always amused me that Iggy seemed to consistently be the best at it; his face was just affixed with concentration as he listened to all that was going on around him. It was nice, too. While he was playing tag, he didn't have any opportunity to screw with me.

Nudge watched for a few more moments, and I hoped dearly she would go join in. I needed my thoughts and concentration right now, and Nudge was the walking concentration killer. I mean, I love her to death and all but that girl can really remove all your attention from everything else.

As soon as I wished her away to go play tag, Angel looked over at Nudge and smiled. "C'mon, Nudge!" she said, wavering the girl over. "Come and play!"

And Nudge smiled back. "Okay!" She rocketed in and Iggy looked temporarily distressed at the amount of noise barreling down at him

I owe Angel for that one.

I turned to look at Fang, who was sitting a few yards away, glancing back and forth at the tag players, and the non tag player.

Me.

"What?" I asked irritably as Fang glanced once again at me.

"Nothing… Just wondering what's on your mind."

"You being a mutineer, would just about cover it," I had to work very hard to keep my voice level.

Fang laughed, "I'm sorry you think that way. I wish you would trust me. This is what's best for all of us. We can't keep running around like this, fighting a war we don't even want to be in… We just can't live like this," Fang gestured around our meager little camp to emphasis his point. "We have to stop this, Max."

I was stunned. "Or you just going to forget who we are? What happened to us? What they did to us? You're just going to ignore all that and try to live some happy little life somewhere? Is that it?"

Fang looked a little somber. "Yeah, basically. It may be time we buried the hatchet and leave this all behind. Maybe if they think we've disappeared with the intention to leave them alone, maybe they'll do the same."

I couldn't even comprehend this. "They will never leave us alone, Fang. Not while we're free. We're living testaments to what they've done. They have to silence us, and they know it. We can't just decide to vanish somewhere and have it all end. This is going to continue until we finish it," I ended my little speech, and studied Fang's even face for a reaction.

He didn't answer at first, and it gave me some time to mull some things over. Most of those things having something to do with him. Things had changed; I certainly knew that. Fang was almost someone else entirely. He was my best friend. The person who always had my back no matter what. And now, it seemed he didn't even like anything I tried to do. Maybe he had just lost all respect for me completely.

It was upsetting, to say the least, but I felt as if I was fighting for control of my flock (yes my flock) with Fang, who had always been the best second in command.

And the best friend.

Fang thought for a few more moments. "Anyway, I say you and me should take a quick look around. Maybe we'll find a better place to camp for the duration of our stay,"

And just like that, he was doing it again. Like he was in charge.

But he had a point, and I was so confused at this point over everything involving Fang, that I just went with it.

Plus, the look he gave me following that request was one of those 'We need to talk. Alone.' kind of looks.

So I agreed, and Fang went off to tell the flock that the two of us would be scouting around for a awhile. A couple days at most. And that they should all just chill and be inconspicuous until we got back.

The usual speech.

Except it was usually delivered by me.

And soon after, myself and Fang were off into the Wild Blue Yonder, and with all those thoughts whistling through my head even louder than the wind around me, I wondered if I would ever have a peaceful moment in my life.

* * *

Author's Note:

I just really want to thank my small but fanatical fan base for their constant support of this story. Without you people I wouldn't even bother writing this story. I could name you all, and I think I will in the next update..

The title will stay as it is for now, because I had a couple more thoughts about it's relevance to the story, which will begin to be revealed a few chapters from now.

Brium will meet the flock in a few chapters, be patient! I already have two more Brium chapters typed and ready, with another two planned, which means a couple that center on Fang and Max as well.

Just relax. When everyone meets up, the story will really take off.

And yeah, it does say "Romance" for a reason.

Now, if only I could figure out how to get more people to read. I should hire a PR guy or something…

Anyway, I shall continue soon!

Thanks for your continued support!


	12. Red Feather Lakes

It had been only an two hours and eleven minutes and Brium was already at Red Feather Lakes, sitting in one of the forests far enough away from the lakes themselves as to not draw attention from the tourists that seemed drawn to the area.

Then again, he was drawn to them as well and he was a tourist of sorts. It was all rather funny how things worked out.

He wished he could be out enjoying life at a lake, but it just wasn't to be.

Not now; not yet.

But maybe someday.

He quietly sat now deep in the surrounding forest with bird calls washing over him. It was nearly five o'clock and the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. The shafts of orange light it cast through the immense green of the forest was astoundingly beautiful. It was perhaps on the top ten list for most beautiful places Brium had ever been.

And he hadn't even come for the sights.

The black shotgun lay beside him on his right; he had purchased it at sporting goods store not an hour ago. It was a Mossberg twelve gauge pump action shotgun that held eight crimson shells in its underbelly tube, plus one more in the chamber. Brium had fully loaded it with nine buckshot shells from the box of twenty he had bought to go along with the weapon.

The twin curved machetes sat unsheathed on his left side; they had been purchased at a different sporting goods store.

They were short enough to be used quite well in a duel wield fashion.

Brium had certainly needed his ID to buy all of the above items.

In front of him, the red miniature cooler filled with ice and a single twenty ounce bottle of PowerAid sat sealed and ready for its purpose. And it did have a purpose besides chilling his drink.

He hadn't needed an ID to buy the cooler.

He also had a box of medical gauze, a needle and thread and duct tape. It would probably all be needed soon enough.

All in all, Brium had spent over six hundred and fifty dollars in four different stores for the stuff he had now. It was money well spent.

He would need all of it; every single item.

Brium moved slightly to make himself more comfortable against the large fir tree he was leaning on. Only about forty-five minutes before Jeb and his crew of Erasers got here. He let out a breath and decided it was time to prep everything. It was going to be one hell of a show.

He was already at the location he had picked; it had less trees and wider clearings then most other spots around; he'd need that soon enough.

Brium started by concealing his backpack, the machete sheaths, the box of medical stuff and duct tape and the cooler in a bush near one of the bigger trees; it was all effectively hidden. Next, he pulled his jacket off and put his sweatshirt on. Both were black, so he imagined he didn't appear all that different. But it was easier to move in the sweatshirt, definitely. He concealed his jacket as well. He made sure his wings were folded comfortably under the sweatshirt. He would need them to stay out of the way. Next, he checked his pockets to make sure all he had put there was were he wanted it. It was almost pointless, because he knew it was, but one just can't be too careful.

Good, he thought. His pistol was in his right hip pocket, its three extra magazines in his left. His Harpy knife was in his right thigh pocket, and five extra shotgun shells in the right (the rest were in his backpack. He doubted he would need them).

Next came the hardest part.

Brium took the shotgun, picked a place and began burying it under the fallen pine needles and leaves. He dug a gap under the middle of the weapon where his foot would fit; when he was done, it just looked like a small pothole.

Concealing the shotgun took nearly fifteen minutes, but it had to be done right or the desired effect wouldn't be achieved; Brium was quite satisfied with how it turned out. At a glance there was nothing there; a better look and it was only fallen pine needles, a few leaves and dirt.

Brium knew the pump action shotgun couldn't be jammed by such things and he gave it no second thought.

Next, he buried one of the curved machetes a few feet from the similarly buried shotgun. It was far easier to do than the shotgun.

The second machete, he concealed under his left wing. He felt the cool steel against his skin, and knew a false move would be quite painful.

But it had to be done this way.

He checked his watch just to make sure his own judgement of time was correct; seventeen minutes to go.

His estimate had only been a few seconds off.

It was time to go to the main entrance to the area; the place where Jeb would probably arrive; it was a good fifteen minute walk away.

He set out, and allowed his mind to turn to something else. Something he had been avoiding thinking about while he was setting things up. He hadn't wanted distractions. And this certainly counted as one.

The flock was in Dallas.

And, more bizarrely, they had fled a football game in plain view of over fifty thousand people.

They were real.

And rather stupid, apparently.

But that didn't concern Brium at the moment. All that did was the fact that they existed beyond a shadow of a doubt (several employees of the sporting goods store had been discussing this strange turn of events and Brium had joined in for a few minutes while his items were being rung up)

Once again, there had been six of them (and a dog, or something) So it was most likely the same group from New York. Brium hadn't had time to buy a newspaper to study the pictures that had been taken.

He had been on a tight schedule.

And was still on one.

But he was thinking about it now, so he went with it.

It now seemed impossible that they were working for the School. The School wouldn't want to reveal anything that they did. Brium had proved that just today with his threat to Jeb.

They didn't want their existence known.

That simple.

So the flock was real. And they were just like him.

Brium smiled as he made his way along to what would soon become a most interesting meeting. There were so many thoughts coursing through his mind he didn't know how he was filtering through them all and still coming up with competent answers to each one.

But they were real.

And that was all that mattered.

As he arrived at the main portion of the park (which was what it seemed to be, a park) he could see a few people out enjoying the day (what was left of it) It was past five, so most had left and the few that remained seemed only a few steps away from doing the same.

Good.

The less people around, the better.

As soon as Brium came within sight of the main road that entered the area, he saw a small chain of four white vans moving toward him. He could even see Jeb sitting in front passenger seat of the main one.

And Jeb was looking back. He almost looked surprised that Brium had kept his word.

How utterly insulting.

Brium gave a small, and a small nod, turned around, and began heading with the same pace back the way he had come.

It was time.

And he was ready.

* * *

Author's Note: 

I said I would, so here's the thank you list to the people who have supported this story:

Makmay04, ElvinDragon, CITCAT826, Jacky06, cullen-o-mania, firesilk,wolfsaver, FlamingFlie, DarkAngels0014 and Kittydog Lover.

You people have been amazingly supportive, and I thank you all!


	13. Nowhere to Be

My old definition of 'normal' is now out of date.

My old definition of 'weird' is now out of date.

My old definition of 'life' is now out of date.

My old definition of 'love' is now out of date.

My old definition of 'Fang' is now out of date.

In case you missed it, or are one of those instant reply loving people (or both) then you're probably wondering what you missed. Since I'm not very good at building up suspense, I figure I should just spit it out.

…

…

Okay, just give me a second here…

…

Okay, new plan. I'll tell you what I'm doing first and then I'll tell you why I'm doing it.

Or actually, maybe I'll just start were I left off last time.

Yeah, I'll do that…

Well, Fang and myself went to look for a new campsite. You know, somewhere with more cover, more access to water, stuff like that.

And it was getting dark, so we, Fang and me, I mean… We were, uh, staying in cave, and he uh…

Well…

I suppose he must really want me on board with his plans, because…

…He kissed me…

Take a moment to re-read that a few times while I gather my thoughts.

…

Okay… I'm okay.

Now the debate begins.

Anyway, that's what happened, and maybe now I should tell you where I am…

Except I don't really know.

Yeah…

I'm sort of… flying as fast as I can consistently fly in a beeline away from that cave.

Where Fang is.

And it's dark, and I don't know where I am, where I'm going, or where I want to be.

Sounds about how it usually is for me, but this time it's much, much worse.

I mean, how much confusion can one girl take? How much?

Really?

My load is already so big, I don't even know where I'm going to fit 'bizarre girl boy stuff' on the list.

And Fang, of all people…

I breathed deep and closed my eyes, letting the wind whip through my hair, trying to will it to tear these problems from my head so I would never have to deal with them.

But it didn't.

Of course not.

But Fang, of all people.

So, here I am. Flying very, very fast in the dark, over the Texan desert, not knowing what to do.

Everything was boiling over.

Everything.

I needed to do something to relieve the pressure.

The flock, staying sane, ITEX, The Voice, saving the world… Fang,. It was all too much to comprehend.

So I did something I normally don't do.

I landed on the cold sand of the desert, curled into a little ball and I cried.

I cried large, heaving sobs for an incalculable amount of time, and let me tell you something.

It felt good.

I was doing something when I couldn't do anything. It filled the void. And I needed it.

Sue me.

I still felt a little stupid, crying in the middle of nowhere, but I have arrived at the conclusion that this is preferable to losing my mind.

I mean, normal people cry when things get unbearable, right?

So there I stayed, crying, in a little pathetic ball in the middle of a perpetual Texas nowhere land.

And, like I said, it was a long time until I stopped.

And I was constantly wondering when The Voice would drop in to mock me. Make me feel better, like it's prone to do.

I've tried to ignore it, I've tried to make myself believe it's nothing. But I think I'm an actual schizophrenic. You can add that to the 'Things Botheing Max' list. And you should, because I'm going to start losing track of them all.

Anyway, when I did stop crying, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. So I decided to go for a walk. Nowhere particular in the middle of nowhere, so picking a direction was easier. And I just walked. Just walked and thought about my life. Well, how much there is to really think about it, anyway.

It occurred to me that there's not a lot of substance in my life. Plenty of style, but nothing substantial. And that thought was depressing, and it made me want to cry again. But I found I couldn't; I was all cried out for the night. Not to mention if I had cried more, I would've probably died of dehydration.

And it was at that point that I decided myself psychologically fit enough to tackle the glaring 'Fang' issue. Codenamed, Operation Fang.

Why had he kissed me?

Why?

Did he do it because he likes me? Does he truly like me in that way?

Or…

Did he do it to give himself a political advantage?

Did he do it to make me more susceptible to listening to him? To listen to his plans and maybe even go with them?

Was that all it was? Just a move in some sort of game for power?

What the hell kind of game was Fang playing?

Or maybe he really meant it, and did it because he likes me…

Are you kind of seeing what I have to deal with?

Well, at least I'm nearly completely sure that it's one of the two aforementioned scenarios.

One, he really means it, meaning he must like me somehow, or two, he doesn't like me, and he's using me for something, most likely access to the command of my (yes MY) flock.

Which he ain't gonna get. I'm in charge, and I've been in charge, and I'm not looking for a regime change.

But if he does like really me…

And around and around this sort of thinking pranced in my head for an even longer period than I had cried, as I ambled slowly and blindly around in the desert.

If Fang was using me, that was low. But if his feelings were sincere, that opened so many doors that led to I don't even know where.

I breathed deep again, and decided to walk a little faster. I still had a long way until morning.

Loads of time and nowhere to be.

So, all I did was think and rethink everything about my strange little life all the way 'til sunrise.

It was an incredibly long night.


	14. Not Done Yet

Brium moved like a wraith through the forest; the slight sounds of his pursuers coming from several hundred feet behind him. Judging by the noises they made, Brium estimated there were at least thirty beings behind him. He was happy that his original estimate had been really close. Being right was quite satisfactory.

He was nearly positive that every Eraser Jeb had brought with him were following him right now; he doubted any were left with the vehicles.

Knowing Brium, Jeb would probably want his entire force with him.

Brium felt the metal of the curved machete pressed between his back and his folded left wing; it added a solid presence, and Brium was positive it wouldn't be left there much longer.

If he wanted answers he would have to take them.

Fine by him.

He spotted the area that was the be the location of what was to come and soon he arrived.

Brium placed himself several feet from the buried shotgun, and spun on his heel to face the coming storm.

There Jeb was, a hundred and fifty feet and closing. And he was surrounded by Erasers. The most Brium had ever seen in one place.

They had transformed during the walk, it seemed; Brium doubted very much that they would have driven here in wolf form.

With a sweep of his head, Brium counted twenty-nine of them.

Including Ari.

And that was beyond belief, beyond all comprehension; Brium had crippled the kid just the night before.

What the hell?

And Ari didn't appear to be wounded at all.

Oh well. Brium would just have to do it again.

The Erasers spread out, and Brium decided not to give Ari's impossible attendance any more thought for now. The freak was just another enemy to be dealt with. Brium then noted that only Ari had wings; the rest didn't. They were older models, the whole lot. But they were probably fast like the ones from the previous night.

"Hello, Jeb," Brium said with a tone that almost was like one a person would use when greeting an old friend. "Drive treat you well?"

But Jeb wasn't playing along. The man looked almost distressed. The huge group moved to within thirty feet of Brium and halted.

"Please stop playing, Brium. I need you to come with me. Now."

"Well, that's what I'd like to talk about, too. As you have given me no compelling reasons pertaining to returning with you, I just don't think I will."

"Please, Brium," Jeb was pleading now.

Pleading.

This was getting weird.

But Jeb had always been a good actor.

"Sorry. Can't do that. Anything else? You can leave now." Brium knew Jeb wouldn't leave. And Brium did not want him to. He had so many questions that had to be asked in the next few minutes.

"We can't leave. Not without you."

Two Erasers were moving toward him now. They were the ones that were probably assigned to handcuff him and take him in.

"Please come quietly, Brium," Jeb said softly, "I really don't want to see you hurt."

"Didn't bother you so much back in School," Brium responded.

The two Erasers were just a few feet from him now. The set themselves up on either side of him; Brium could tell it took every ounce of their willpower to not jump him right there.

"And that's just one compelling reason to not go back."

"Please Brium," Jeb said softly. "Please…"

But Brium had never, not once had any intention of going back.

He was free.

He would never give that up.

Ever.

And that freedom would have to be defended once again.

With one quick move, Brium reached with his right arm under his sweatshirt and wing, grasped the machete and pulled it free.

He had already calculated where the Erasers stood, as the blade came free of its concealment, so what followed was quite easy.

Brium raised the blade and swung his whole body in a quick, tight circle.

The machete cleaved through about five inches of the first Eraser's neck, and blood spurted from the wound; the artery had most certainly been severed.

The second Eraser, well, the blade passed through its neck completely, and as Brium finished his spin and faced Jeb once more, the Eraser's head rolled off of its shoulders.

Both Erasers crumpled to the ground; one dead, the other almost there, gurgling harmlessly on the ground.

Brium smiled as the other twenty-seven Erasers took up fighting stances.

Jeb looked defeated.

"Then I'm sorry, Brium," he said. "For what must happen."

"I'm not," Brium gave a grim smile. "And yes. That is my final answer."

A dozen Erasers all in unison lunched themselves at him.

It was the first squad, sent out as a first wave to bring him down. The rest wouldn't attack if they didn't need to help prevent friendly fire, so to speak.

It was as Brium suspected, and it would be perfect.

Brium picked the frontrunner and launched the blade which spun in arcs and refracted the beautiful golden light.

It moved so fast the targeted Eraser had no time to summon a defense.

The blade buried seven inches of steel into the Eraser's forehead; it would be slightly difficult the pull free, which Brium might have to do soon.

Darn.

Brium danced quickly to his right as the Eraser fell, dead instantly. He found the small pothole, dug his toe in it and without a second thought, kicked upward.

The shotgun was launched with an explosion of leaves, pine needles and dirt, right into Brium's outstretched hands.

There was already one in the chamber; Brium aimed and fired.

Another Eraser went down.

They were within twenty feet now.

He racked the shotgun, and the spent shell flew from it. He noted with satisfaction that all of the Erasers seemed surprised that a shotgun had materialized from the ground and was now being used against them. But that was the plan, so it must have been working.

And they still charged; Brium knew that failure in their assigned task (bringing him down) would probably result in death at the hands of the School.

Either way, they were dead.

And Brium was just fine with that.

He fired again, and felt the recoil; another Eraser down.

Eighteen feet.

He fired so fast that three used shells were constantly in the air at any given time.

And in a little more than six seconds, all nine shells had been fired, and nine more Erasers were on the ground.

Brium had chosen buckshot for a reason; it tore its targets apart. And the closer they got, the more powerful it became, as the large BBs had less time to spread apart. The first two or three he had fired on, being almost thirty feet away, may still have been alive. And actually, knowing Erasers, it may have been more. But it was doubtful that any of the nine hit would be a threat regardless of whether they were alive or not.

Brium had fired the final shell, and the last two Erasers of squad one were within ten feet of him, still sprinting fast. Brium whipped the shotgun around and met the first with a solid hit to the head with the shotgun's stock. The Eraser went down, stunned.

The second tried to come in from a more side angle but Brium dodged it easily. He moved with incredible precision behind the Eraser, wrapping the shotgun around it's neck. He ripped the smoking gun sideways with a solid jerk, and the Eraser's neck snapped audibly.

Brium didn't even stop to think; he dropped the shotgun and the dead Eraser (he had anticipated this already) and leapt on the stunned Eraser he had hit about three seconds previously.

He roped his arms around the nearly unconscious beast's head, and broke its neck as well. Brium didn't even stop moving; he knew that at this point, the rest of the Erasers would all be bearing down on him.

Quickly moving to a spot of dirt four feet from where he was, Brium smoothly pulled the pistol from his pocket and passed it to his left hand.

He dragged the fingers of his right through the dirt, and came up with the buried second machete. The explosion of dirt and leaves wasn't as impressive as when the shotgun had done the same thing, Brium noted with mild humor.

He straightened up and pointed the pistol to where he knew the Erasers had to be coming.

He heard them.

And he was right.

The rest of them were less than fifteen feet away. Brium picked the closest, aimed for the head, and fired.

Things were about to get very, very intense.

The next Eraser was slashed through the neck as it came within range; a favored spot of Brium's.

The one after that got a swing in, trying to rip him with its claws. Brium blocked it with his right arm, pressed the pistol to the creature's upper chest and he fired.

He leapt backward, and it was at about this point, where all thought shut down, and instinct kicked in. It was what Brium had been trained to do almost from birth. This was almost all he had ever known before his escape.

And the irony was he used the very means and training that they had given him to stay free.

That tradition was continued.

He spun and slashed. He dodged Eraser attacks with no thought at all, taking off limbs or outright killing whenever the chance presented itself.

One after another, the Erasers fell.

Whenever he could, he would put a bullet in a vital organ, and maybe even a head now and again. The only thing that existed at this moment was killing them and staying alive.

That was it.

Nothing else.

And then, suddenly, there were none left.

Brium had the final Eraser on the ground, it's left arm severed below the elbow. It snarled at him. He raised the pistol and put a bullet above it's right eye.

The slide locked back; the pistol was empty.

Brium turned back to face Jeb, already thinking he would have to chase the man down. He was fine with that; there was no way Jeb could escape him. Not now.

Brium was breathing hard; he was injured in several dozen places; clothing and skin ripped away when an Eraser had gotten lucky with its claws. He wasn't concerned about most of the injuries; most were mere scratches. Only a handful were gashes, and only one, the one on his left shoulder, was gushing blood profusely. His wings seemed to be fine. They had been tagged a couple of times with minor to moderate hits, but they felt all right. They were what most concerned Brium.

All in all, he was in better shape than he thought he would be at this point.

Before Jeb came into sight, Brium knew that Ari had to be standing beside him. Ari hadn't been in the melee, and Brium didn't hear him anywhere else.

Once again, Brium was right, there was Jeb, with Ari on his left.

And a young girl on his right.

Brium had not heard her arrive, nor had he seen her at all before. And it was then that Brium knew this girl was not at all what she appeared.

Jeb was still standing calmly where he had been. He had seen Brium slaughter nearly thirty Erasers in less than five minutes. And he didn't seem concerned.

Sure, he had Ari to protect him, but Brium had beaten the kid so many times, it really didn't matter if Ari was around or not. It was nice to see that Jeb hadn't just sent his son into the fray; it was nice to know the man still had some semblance of love for his son.

It would have been very hard to take Ari out without killing him in a fight like that one.

No, with all evidence gathered, Jeb's confidence of safety seemed all placed in this single girl.

She was another creation of the school; she had to be. And that thought, which Brium already concluded was the truth, made him weary.

As did the sheathed samurai sword held loosely in her hands.

She was younger than Brium; maybe fifteen, sixteen max. She was wearing blue sweatpants that fit tightly to her, and a dull pink T-Shirt that did the same. White tennis shoes, fine shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, a silver bracelet on her left wrist and the matching earrings glinting in what was left of the sunlight; she looked like a regular teenage girl.

Jeb smiled. A smile of what Brium assumed was some sort of twisted pride. "My God, Brium…" Jeb shook his head in astonishment, "Not even I thought you could do something like that."

"You'll be repeating that in just a few minutes," Brium responded. "I'm not done yet."

Jeb shrugged, "Soon you'll understand what I'm trying to do." He turned to the girl. "Don't permanently damage him," he ordered, sighing.

The girl smiled. "Of course not," she replied sweetly in what would be considered a very cute voice. She drew her sword, letting the sheath fall to the ground.

Brium locked the bloody machete between his left arm and pressed it to his side to free up both hands. He quickly extracted the used magazine from the pistol, trading it in his pocket for a fresh one. He hadn't taken his eyes off of the girl. He hadn't even blinked. He couldn't let Jeb leave this, or else everything he had just done was for nothing.

Well, not completely nothing. He had taken out twenty-eight Erasers. That had to count for something.

He slid the magazine into the pistol.

She moved impossibly fast and the knife she threw at him moved so fast, he had almost no time to get his right arm out of the way.

He moved enough that the blade only skimmed him causing a relatively deep cut instead of impaling his right wrist dead on, but it achieved what Brium assumed was the desired effect.

Brium had dropped the pistol.

And the girl was now racing full speed toward him, sword at the ready.


	15. Insane?

So I spent nearly six hours wondering around a desert waiting impatiently for the sun to rise. Yeah, stupid, I know, but what would you have done in my place? I mean, really…

It was like my brain was on autopilot; I just walked and walked, going nowhere, doing nothing. Just walked. 

For nearly six hours.

Until sunrise I did this, and when the light finally came, I knew I had to go back. Back to that cave; back to Fang.

It wasn't the most appealing of prospective ideas, but it had to be done.

We still were looking for a better patch of land to crash at and everything, and I guess I needed to help.

Though the prospect of crawling back to that cave to Fang was utterly infuriating.

And I thought I was mad at him before…

Well, anyway, I took off from God knows where and struggles to regain my sense of location, which, admittedly, took several minutes.

The flight back to that cave was just one long adventure of dread. I was not a happy bird girl, I tell you what.

And that thought, of course, reignited the internal war that had been raging inside my head all freaking night.

What the hell kind of game was Fang playing at?

At least by this time, the initial shock was over and I could now go over this problem from a logical standpoint without those agitating 'feelings' and 'emotions' getting in the way.

Anyway, why had he kissed me?

That's the most blunt way to put it, and being straight to the point was the best idea for such a baffling can of worms that this incident presented.

And discussing it with him was out of the question for now. As far as I had always known, Fang wasn't the most verbal person when it came to feelings… Or anything.

It was all so very strange, I thought as I ascended to a good cruising altitude; this was not the kind of thing I wanted to have to think about.

Everything was so much simpler when I only had to think about avoiding capture and saving the world on a date to be named later.

I pined for the good 'ol days.

It was far too soon when the cave that held the most annoying person on this planet came into view.

I sighed as I swooped down and decided then on the entrance I would make; nice and quick, with rock solid resolve. Yeah, that's the way to go…

So I rocketed right in there, and was quite satisfied to see that I startled the hell out of Fang.

So we were off.

I'm glad I'll never see that cave again.

So we flew along going in the direction that I chose (I'm the leader. Me.) and neither of us said anything for a while.

Which was fine with me.

Fang had a lot of explaining to do, but right now I was not in the mood to hear it. There was always later.

And there would certainly be a alter here.

"So, did you sleep well last night?" Fang said from somewhere behind me.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Out like a light. You?"

"Not well at all, actually," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry for you," I said, not even trying to dull down the amount of sarcasm I poured into that sentence. He had kissed me, freaked me out and I hadn't sleep at all, and now he wanted me to feel sorry for him?

Yeah.

No.

"I was thinking about stuff, Max," he said. "And I kinda sorta wanna talk to you about it."

"Not now," I said almost instantly. "Later. Not now."

"Why not?" he asked,

"I'm not in the mood, all right?"

"But why-"

"Not now!" I said, nearly shouting. "Okay?!"

Fang didn't say a thing for a long time after that.

Fine by me.

He was treading on rather thin ice, I hoped for his sake he had figured that out and would just keep his mouth shut for a while.

He seemed to get it, so maybe he wasn't as stupid as he had been acting recently.

Only time would tell.

And on top of everything, I had no idea where we were going.

Weird, huh? 

I mean, I knew the direction just fine, but as to what exactly was in that direction I hadn't a clue.

Go me.

Again.

I then wondered how the others were doing. It must have been my leader-ish instinct kicking in or something.

I was here, and Fang (who was still, despite everything he pulled, second in command) was also here. So we, the two most capable in our little group, were out gallivanting around while the rest were up to who knows what.

Oh…

I must be losing it.

But no, no, no, I'm okay. I'm still me, I'm still the kick ass leader chick of my flock, and I'm not losing my grip on reality.

I hope.

No, I'm not. I'm losing it.

No, I'm good.

Is it insanity to question whether you're sane or not?

I mean, shouldn't you know either way?

They say insane people don't know they're insane, so do sane people know they're sane?

Arghh!!!

I really wanted to punch myself really hard right then. To either knock some sense into myself, or knock myself out so I wouldn't have to deal with the insanities of questioning sanity.

My only consolation was that Fang was (hopefully…) utterly oblivious to this bizarre little war that was raging in my mind.

It was sort of his fault. I promised myself that I'd bring that little point up whenever it was that I decided I wanted to know more about what was driving Fang to doing all the strange things he had done recently.

Especially that kiss.

I mean, I know I kissed him once, but that was different and didn't last as long, and I still don't know why exactly it was that I did it.

Add another point to the 'insanity' team.

Don't know own motivations… That can't be good.

And so that train of random thoughts kept chugging around until I figured out where we were, and where we were going.

I was leading Fang to Dr. Martinez's house.

That's where I was going!

Fang was going to meet Dr. Martinez and her daughter Ella.

Oh, wait…

How's that going to go?


	16. No Soul

Brium pulled his curved machete from under his arm, and made himself ready; the pistol laid on the ground beside him, loaded with the slide still locked back. All he had to do was pick it up, press the slide release and he was good to go.

But she was almost to him, running at full speed, and Brium knew he didn't have time to do so.

So, he pulled the curved machete from the crook of his arm, and held it with both hands, favoring his right, and he made himself ready.

She was on him in mere moments.

She began her attack with a swipe across his chest; Brium parried it easily, deflecting her blade with a loud clang. She struck out with her elbow, narrowly missing the gash on his shoulder; the place she was aiming to hit. She was smart, this girl. And she was good.

And this Brium had established in these two short moves.

Now Brium had to learn more.

He dodged another well placed blow.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, parrying another swipe away with another clang. She didn't answer, her face contorted with concentration; she just continued her barrage of samurai sword assaults.

Of course she didn't answer.

Brium dodged another attack; she was inhumanly fast. This only helped to solidify her status as a creation of the School. He had half expected her to transform into a wolf like thing similar to the Erasers, but that hadn't happened. And if her skin tight T-shirt proved anything, it stated that she had no wings.

So what exactly had the School done to her?

Brium just kept dodging each blow or deflecting the ones he couldn't. She was toying with him; this wasn't as good as she was.

He was trying to figure out how best to approach this situation. If she had been an Eraser, he would have struck back by now, not dodged every blow.

He had tried the same tactic of defense only on the first Erasers that had come looking for him when he had escaped the School. Brium had been under the mistaken impression that they still had a shred of humanity left, so he had tried talking to them to sway them from the Shool's iron grip. He had been wrong, and after a few failed attempts to talk rationally to the brutes, he settled on simply killing them on sight.

They were what they were, and nothing Brium had said had, or could, change that.

This girl, on the other hand…

Maybe she still had a chance.

Brium ducked another blow, and wondered when he'd be deemed a worthy enough opponent for this girl to stop pulling her punches. Truth be told, he was in a fair amount of pain from the multiple wounds inflicted on him by that final Eraser brawl, but it was ignored pain. But it still affected him.

So now, Brium had to deal with an opponent who wasn't fighting to the best of her ability, who may still have a chance to redeem herself.

Judging by the School's record, that seemed unlikely, but Brium had to try.

He had to.

"I don't normally get physical on the first date. Especially not with a girl whose name I don't even know," he said, sucking in a breath as he pounced backward putting space between him and the girl.

The pair danced a dance of potential death among a forest of trees and dead Erasers, all of which were obstacles in their paths. Brium had to be careful to not run into a tree, or trip on a root or the body of an Eraser, as he leaped and jumped every which way to avoid being diced by the girl's sword.

She ignored his comment of course, and concentrated solely on attacking him. She lunged forward trying to spear him with her sword, but he danced out of the way again.

"Do you even know why you're doing this?" Brium asked, blocking another blow, and bringing his face close to hers; she was so much smaller than he, it really was incredible. He was taller by at least a foot. "Do you even know what I did? Why they want me?"

No answer. Well, no verbal answer. She simply responded by slashing at him again. He couldn't keep up dodging like this forever, and she seemed to know that.

"You have a choice, you know," Brium said, taking a quick few steps back to put some temporary space between him and his assailant. "You don't have to be a tool to implemented by them whenever they deem fit. They'll just use you until it kills you. In fact, I'll bet Jeb just brought those Erasers to be killed, because you were here all along. He thinks you can take me out all by your lonesome. Those Erasers were just window dressing. Or maybe at the most something to wear me down a bit before he sent you after me."

Brium dodged another swing, and glanced at Jeb. "Isn't that right, Jeb? You brought them all here to die, didn't you?"

Jeb just stared back, a look of interest on his face; Ari stood stone still beside him. Neither made a sound.

And that one glance at Jeb was all it took. In an instant she was fighting for real.

She lashed out with her left hand, and punched Brium in the gash on his shoulder; the spot where she had aimed before. She then brought the sword down and slashed a cut from Brium's right collarbone to his sternum.

He jumped back, assessing the damage. The cut had hit his rib cage and had probably left some deep furrows in some of his ribs. That would take time to heal; it was already bleeding very bad. Brium could feel the warmth spreading over his chest and belly.

This had to end soon. One way or another it had to end.

She was running out of time to redeem herself.

The girl stepped back and adopted a fighting stance, before coming at him again.

She sliced, and Brium deflected it with his machete. He punched her right in her jaw with a left hook. She lurched back, and Brium finally got a better look at her eyes. He was stunned by what he saw.

Nothing.

No emotion, no reactions, just a blank silence. Even though her eyes were a bright blue there was nothing behind them that would imply a rational sentient being existed.

It didn't help Brium's judgment of her.

"Now I know you can talk, so talk to me," Brium said, noting where he was; he was looking for something in particular. This girl had really turned it up a notch, and Brium figured he may need some assistance. He spotted it behind the girl, about fifteen feet in front of Jeb and Ari, both of whom were too busy watching him to take any notice.

The first machete that Brium had thrown was still stuck in that Eraser's forehead.

And it was then that Brium made an attack with his blade for the first time. He swung on her and she blocked it, but Brium once again reached over and punched her in the jaw; the same place as before.

She lurched back once again, and in a flash Brium had summoned what was left of his strength and made a bolt towards the first machete.

He had only taken a few steps when the girl had recovered and had set after him, so he knew it was going to be close.

Ari had assumed that Brium was going to attack him and Jeb, and Brium couldn't blame him, seeing as he was running full speed toward them, and he was mildly amused at Ari's surprise at the sudden charge, and even more surprise when the charge stopped. Surprise (and any other easily defined emotion) didn't play well on Ari's strange wolf features.

It was pretty much downright hilarious.

But no time to consider that, Brium thought as he reached the downed Eraser with the machete protruding from its forehead.

He grasped the blade with his left hand and wrenched free.

And spun to face the girl.

A little too late.

He looked up and saw the light glint off of her sword as it came for him. He brought the machete in his right hand up to block and got immensely lucky.

The blade had stopped before it could cleave a very deep gash in his head, but it had cut at least an eighth of an inch into the flesh an inch or so above his right eye, probably hitting his skull.

Brium wondered what Jeb had meant when he had said 'don't damage him permanently'. Some of the blows the girl had tried to give him seemed pretty permanent.

She wasn't done; she swung the blade free, and with lightning speed jabbed it through Brium's left forearm. Right in between his radius and ulna bones.

The result was Brium dropping the weapon he had traveled across the battlefield to get. He thought he'd need it to win this particular battle.

But another route to victory had just presented itself.

The girl's sword was still jabbed clean through his arm, and Brium decided to keep it that way.

He quickly raised the blade in his right hand, flipped it around to use the dull end, and hit the girl hard on her wrists, and the again quickly across her temple.

She let the sword go and toppled sideways hitting the ground hard.

Brium stood to his full height, and spun quickly to face Jeb and Ari, who had moved a few feet back to stay away from any possible hits from the fight.

Brium let fly with all of his strength with the machete in his right hand.

Neither Jeb nor Ari expected an attack, and the blade impaled Ari in his right shoulder, burying itself fully into his flesh, and knocking him spinning to the ground.

Brium didn't even stop to consider what he imagined would be a wonderfully hilarious look of complete surprise and bewilderment on Jeb's part. He spun back to face his temporarily downed opponent, while ripping the samurai sword from his left forearm, grasping it firmly in his blood slicked right hand; he noted the spurt of blood from his arm that came with it.

He wondered briefly how much blood he had left to bleed.

He felt the sword in his grip; it had a solid feel, and Brium estimated that it was probably well constructed. Only the best for the minions of the School.

Speaking of which…

Brium faced the girl just as she was rising to her feet.

She didn't even look upset; Brium wondered why she had even smiled when Jeb had ordered her to fight him. That was the only time she had shown emotion, or had said anything.

Brium was simply gasping for air but gave one of his smiles anyway.

"I don't think I'd like a second date," he said.

She crouched; she was going to attack him, an armed opponent, with no weapons of her own.

Brium's face turned grim.

"Don't do it…"

But she did. Her face never changed from it's perpetual blankness.

Brium let her come to him and let her momentum do all the work.

The blade of the sword entered right below her left breast, probably clipping her heart. She slammed into Brium, and he wrapped his punctured left arm around her shoulders to prevent any other attack from her.

She gasped as she was run through by her own blade.

The girl tried to move, but Brium had her in a solid grip. He lowered his mouth to her right ear and whispered softly, "What did you think was going to happen?"

He pulled back to look at her face; the only thing it registered was pain. No regret, no moment of sudden clarity that she was about to die. The School had broken her. She wasn't a person.

She had no soul.

He leaned back in, making sure she wouldn't try a last ditch attack. He imagined she wouldn't and probably couldn't at all as soon as she slumped in his arms, not even able to hold herself up anymore.

"I wish I could say I was sorry," Brium whispered in her ear. "I really wish I could."

And he twisted the blade.

The girl let out a final gasp and went completely still.

The only sounds left were Brium's breathing and Ari writhing in pain about twenty feet away.

Brium lowed the girl's body to the ground, next to the body of an Eraser and pulled the blade free from her torso.

He looked up to where Ari was still on the ground, trying to get back up with Jeb's help.

How very touching.

Brium marched over the multiple dead Erasers to the Ari and Jeb, every part of his body hurting. He roughly shoved Jeb to the ground and kicked Ari in the chest so the wolf boy fell back and hit the ground again. Brium flipped the samurai sword in his hands, so it pointed downward, and he stabbed it into Ari's left shoulder right to the hilt, effectively pinning him down.

Ari howled in pain, but it was cut off quickly as Brium him in the side of the head.

It stunned Ari into silence, and the next blow knocked him into complete unconsciousness.

And Brium didn't stop moving.

He was upon Jeb in a flash, pulling the man to his feet with both hands by the scruff of his white jacket.

"I sincerely hope you're satisfied," Brium said, before head butting Jeb. Hard

Jeb gasped in pain, and Brium let him fall to the ground.

Brium had hit Jeb pretty hard for what a human could take, and the man had to be seeing stars.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Brium was feeling lightheaded now; the blood loss he was experiencing was starting to take a noticeable effect.

He breathed deep. It was time to precede with his plan; the only reason he had just put himself through all of this in the first place. It was all to get to Jeb. And now Brium had the chance to do something he had wanted to do for as long as he could remember.

Which was no small feat.

"All right Jeb," Brium breathed deep, using every ounce of pain resistance he had. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and I'm going to receive the answers to said questions in a concise, organized, complete manner."

Brium pulled his Harpy knife from his right thigh pocket and flipped it open with a click. He walked around Jeb, who was still too dazed to even attempt to get up.

Brium picked up Jeb's left hand.

"And I will get the answers I want, Jeb," Brium breathed in again, fighting the wooziness. "I'm going to come back in a few minutes and when I do, we are going to hold what I believe will the most enlightening conversation I've ever had."

"What are you going to do, Brium?" Jeb asked quietly, blinking a few times in an attempt to alleviate his dizziness .

"This," Brium said quietly.

And with one well executed motion, Brium used the Harpy's serrated blade to good use and he quickly sawed Jeb's pinkie finger off.

* * *

Author's Note: 

Had this written for a while, actually. And I have another Brium chapter ready!

Hope everyone's enjoying the story!


	17. Potential Consequences

I angled myself towards the ground and dove, not letting Fang know what I was doing, so he'd look stupid trying to catch up.

Which he did, on both counts

And I felt a little better.

I could tell I had agitated him, as I zipped towards the ground, and it was that fleeting moment, with the wind racing around my face, that I felt the happiest I had been since I don't know when.

Sure, it was kind of evil being happy at Fang's expense (but right now he deserved it) but that wasn't the reason for all the happiness I felt right at this moment.

No, I was going to see Dr. Martinez. The only human who had ever treated me with complete, sincere.. humanness , I guess.

She and her daughter Ella actually treated me like I was person (a ground breaking concept, I know) and now I was going to see them again.

Not to mention the chocolate chip cookies! (except that I just did!)

That was a plus, certainly, but it still paled in comparison to the whole 'human compassion for other humans (even me)' thing.

I wondered if Fang had ever had one of those delicious gifts from heaven (cookies!), and I already knew he hadn't had any humanness directed at him yet, so despite me still being a bit peeved at him, I was happy for him as well.

Stupid Fang. He's so hard to hate, even when I hate him.

I hit the ground running, and the house that I had missed so much came into view.

Fang stealthily landed behind me, and didn't follow; he was far too cautious far that.

I hadn't told him just where we were.

I wanted to surprise him.

And maybe freak him out a little, too.

Anyway, I could see the house now, and was still running to it.

I pulled into a complete stop when I spotted someone; I knew exactly who that someone was.

Dr. Martinez.

There she was, standing in the sunlight, fiddling with her house keys.

She straightened up, sensing someone, probably me, watching her. She spun around, and my heart caught in my throat.

Dr. Martinez's eyes widened; quite a bit actually, and the took the surprised woman a few moments for what she was seeing to sink in.

That was probably the most thankful I had ever been that I was not, in fact, a figment of someone's imagination.

"Max…" she whispered, only a half a notch above absolute silence.

And it was at about that point that everything became a blur.

I remember sort of running to her, and receiving the best hug I had ever gotten, and then begin ushered inside like some guest of honor, responding to quick fire question from the enthused Doctor.

It was all wonderful; every single second.

I could only smile wider as I imagined what Fang must've been thinking watching this spectacle from some concealed spot out in the bushes somewhere.

Anyway, the next few minutes consisted of answering questions, luring Fang from his hiding spot (he's now my brother, by the way) and being shown inside the wonderful home of Dr. Martinez, etcetera, etcetera.

And yes, it was all amazing.

And no, I'm not even overreacting to this; it's all simply amazing.

And no, that wasn't even the best.

She had cookies ready for eating!

And then we ate them!

So, while eating cookies, and explaining to Dr. Martinez that my 'brother' Fang was indeed just like me, she asked what our 'plan' was.

Yeah...

Plan...

I decided the best answer was to pretend I had and answer, and not tell her. And she seemed to buy that.

"Kay, forget I asked," she said.

"No, it's alright. We're just… not used to telling others what we're gonna do, is all… Don't be offended, or anything," I begged her.

She smiled, "That's alright, Max," she said glancing at Fang, who was memorizing every detail of the house, before looking back at me and smiling even wider.

That certainly made me feel good.

And what Dr. Martinez brought up next made me feel even better. Not in the 'I feel like smiling' way; more of the 'relief' way.

She told me that she had studied that X-ray she had taken of my arm, and said that there was a slight, minuscule, off hand chance that she could take that sucker out without permanently damaging my hand.

And, after a brief argument with her to do it, and a slightly longer argument with that Voice inside my head to shut up and leave me alone, she finally agreed to do it.

Yay! I was going to soon be rid of this accursed chip thingy, and possibly the Voice along with it!

A twofer!

I mean. the Voice was adamant about me keeping the stupid thing lodged in my arm, saying it might 'cost me the use of my hand' but to be quite honest with you, I would gladly sacrifice a hand to be rid of that accursed thing.

Well, maybe not gladly...

Actually, let's just not think about it at all...

I like, actually love, the use of my hands (both of them!) but that chip and the Voice…

God! How irritating!

Does every choice have a consequence? Isn't there any time where I can just get completely lucky and not have some sort of downside come into play for every single decision I make?

Ah, probably not...

So, let's just do this already and be done with it!

Needless to say, it took immense effort to control myself as I pretty much herded Fang and Dr. Martinez to her car to take me to get the chip removed.

I had to work to keep myself from bouncing around in excitement, and actually a bit of fear.

It was nice to be in control of something.

I could choose to have this chip removed, or to keep it there. It was my choice; mine. I could do as I wished.

It felt wonderful to not have things already lined up for me, like they were back at the School.

And it was that thought alone that was a main driving force in my decisions.

Those wonderful people at the School would more than likely not like me removing a chip they had put in me.

So, by removing it, I spited them.

It was a small victory, but I wanted one so badly right now, it was almost worth the price of one hand.

Almost...

Stupid potential consequences...

* * *

Author's Note:

I have a question...

What year do the Maximum Ride books take place? It's 2005, right...?

I need to know for certain date later in the story; any help would be great!

Thanks!


	18. Capable

It had taken Brium nearly twenty-five minutes to stitch up the handful of injuries that had needed that particular treatment.

The massive gashes on his chest, shoulder, and both sides (entrance and exit) on the puncture wound on his arm were the first candidates the be sewn up. Several smaller wounds had followed, though for the mass majority of his injuries he had simply applied some gauze and duct taped them up.

The gash on his forehead had a three inch strip of tape over it; Brium imagined he might've looked slightly ridiculous and/or insane. Either would work to his advantage with what was to come.

Brium now stood shirtless, looking like a badly damaged doll. This was the most, outside of the School, that he had ever been injured.

He noted with displeasure that the cloths he had been wearing were now utterly useless. They were now little more then tattered, blood soaked rags. The shorts he was still wearing were not as bad off, and they would last a little longer, hopefully. Until his next shopping trip which needed to happen much sooner than originally scheduled.

The three pack of socks was ruined, too; Brium had needed the extra two pairs to wipe blood off of the wounds that needed stitching; the socks he was wearing were badly stained with blood, and had been removed.

His shoes seemed quite well off, all considered; his socks had absorbed most of the blood as it oozed down his legs. They'd be fine for awhile, anyway.

Jeb was breathing softly a few feet away. He moaned every now and again. Brium had kicked him in the stomach several times to make sure the man stayed immobile, and had warned that similar treatment would be inflicted if Jeb didn't stay put.

Needless to say, Jeb hadn't tried anything.

Brium took a sizable gulp of his Power Aid that he had retrieved from the cooler, and he glanced around at all of the bodies; both the multiple Eraser's and the girl's.

Shortly after immobilizing Jeb, and before treating his injuries, Brium had retrieved his pistol and had proceeded to walk around and check each body making sure they were all dead.

Seven Erasers were only mortally wounded, and a quick shot to the head had finished them.

Brium had made sure that Jeb had watched the entire procedure; the man had looked on with complete horror. This had been the first time that Jeb had seen how far Brium would go would maintain his freedom.

If only he realized that Brium was still just getting started.

It was nearly six fifteen now, and within an hour the sun would set and light would be lost. Brium decided that Jeb had waited long enough with a sense of impending dread, and it was high time for some questions to be answered.

Brium drained the rest of the Power Aid, and picked up the cooler full of ice.

He still felt quite woozy; the immense blood loss was certainly affecting him. His body would utilize every milliliter of Power Aid, and new blood would soon begin replenishing his system.

So, barefoot, shirtless, and carrying the small red cooler, Brium moseyed through the bodies of Erasers, and arrived at Jeb's slightly moving form.

He set the cooler down, pulled his Harpy knife from his pocket, and let himself fall into a cross legged sitting position in front of Jeb. The knife was still dripping with some of Jeb's drying blood.

"So, where were we?" Brium asked, opening the cooler.

He already knew where they were.

There, in the middle of the ice sat Jeb's pinkie finger, which Brium had traded for the Power Aid a few minutes prior.

Jeb didn't answer at first, and that gave Brium time to glance at Ari to make sure the wolf boy was still unconscious.

He was; still pinned to the ground like an insect.

"Oh, I know," Brium said. And boy, did he "Question and answers. I'm going to ask some questions Jeb, and I'm going to receive the answers relevant to those questions. Do you think you can do that?"

Jeb looked up. It was evident he was fighting a look of fear.

"Don't do this, Brium," he plead.

"My dear Jeb, I've only removed one finger. If I get the truth delivered in a quick, sincere manner, I won't have to clip off any more."

Jeb didn't answer; he cradled his injured hand with his good one.

"Alrighty, Jeb. Again, I'm going to ask questions and every time I don't get the answer I'm seeking, I take a finger. If we get through all my questions with satisfactory responses, I'll give you your severed fingers back," Brium patted the cooler of ice. "I'm sure you have Doctors working for you that could reattach them in a jiffy…"

Brium raised an eyebrow. "Do you feel me, Jeb?"

Jeb just moaned slightly.

"Okay, then... Question one: How did you find me?"

"We found your ID number, and tracked your recent uses. Found the motel you were staying in." Jeb responded monotonously.

Easy enough. Brium noted he would need a new fake ID soon.

"How did you find that out?"

"We have numerous people out looking for you," Jeb said. "It was only a matter of time."

"Uh huh," Brium replied, satisfied with the answer. "Next question. What happened to Dr. Ruby Foster?"

Jeb made a sound; it wasn't an answer.

Brium held up the Harpy knife in front of Jeb's face. "Answer the question, please," he said softly. "And don't lie. Or I'll know."

"She's dead," Jeb whispered.

"How?" Brium asked.

"What do you mean?"

Brium lanced his arm out, grasped Jeb's left hand, pulled it free of the man's right and summarily cut his ring finger off.

Jeb gasped in pain; Brium let him pull his once again injured hand back. Brium dropped the ring finger besides Jeb's pinkie in the cooler.

"You know what I mean," Brium stated. "She was murdered, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Jeb gasped out.

Brium's smile faded. "Who gave the order?"

Jeb didn't answer, and Brium made a quick fake move to grab Jeb's hand again. Jeb flinched away.

"Who... Gave... The order?"

"The Director."

Brium nodded, "I thought as much. I won't ask you where our Madam Director is; I doubt you'd know that. I'll find her myself soon enough."

"Brium, you can still stop this," Jeb was trying again. "Please…"

But Brium wasn't going to stop now.

"And go back with you?" Brium shook his head once. "Moving on… Where is Mikhail? I'm sure you know where he is; he works directly for you."

Jeb was very nearly in tears, it seemed, "If I tell you, I'm afraid you'll kill him."

"If you don't, I'm afraid I'll kill you."

Brium held up the bloody knife once more, "Tic tock, Jeb."

"He's at the School," Jeb whispered, knowing he had probably condemned Mikhail to death.

He had.

"Thank you," Brium said, eying Jeb's distraught expression. "Oh, don't feel bad, Jeb. Mikhail's not exactly a prime example of a good man. I don't believe he'll be missed very much."

Brium glanced at the body of the girl, a few feet away. "Speaking of, he trained her, didn't he?"

"Yes," Jeb confirmed.

"Hmmm. She was good, that one. What did you do to her?"

Jeb had lost two fingers, and wasn't in the mood to play games. "We genetically engineered her to be stronger, faster, smarter-"

"Obviously," Brium cut him off. "What was her name?"

"She didn't have one," Jeb said, rolling over, still cradling his hand.

"I thought not. Well, nor do I, really. 'Project Equilibrium' isn't exactly something you put on a birth certificate." Brium raised an eyebrow and looked to the sky, "Though I don't believe I have one of those, either…"

"Please stop this, Brium."

"Oh, I will. Sooner or later, depending on how you respond," Brium sighed. "So, what's with this 'flock' I keep hearing about?"

Jeb moaned, and Brium mentally counted to ten.

"Okay, then." Brium quickly cut off Jeb's middle finger, adding it to his collection.

Jeb gave a slight scream, cut off by Brium punching him; fairly softy, actually.

It still had to hurt.

"Enough of that. What's the story behind this flock?" Brium repeated. "I'm going to grow tired of asking, and you're going to grow tired of having fingers removed."

And Jeb told him all about the six individuals that comprised the flock. Brium asked for names, physical descriptions, the works.

He got it all.

He was most surprised at Fang's mention. The kid was alive.

It was good to know.

"How did they escape?"

Jeb smiled slightly, bleeding from his head a bit, "I helped them."

"Did you? And what angle were you playing when you did that?"

"It's a test. To see how well they survive."

"Ah," Brium nodded. "Are they proving satisfactory?"

Jeb laughed; he actually laughed. "Well Max is doing what she can. Fang's being a little more out in the open then we'd like."

Brium returned the laugh, thinking of the football game "I suppose so."

"You remember Fang, don't you?" Jeb asked.

"I do. And reminding me doesn't help your situation. You set that little match up, if I'm not mistaken."

That wiped the smile off Jeb's face.

"Speaking of setting things up…" Brium whispered. "Los Angeles. August sixteenth, 2004. Did you mastermind that? Did you give that order, Jeb?"

Jeb looked really scared now; he didn't answer.

Brium grabbed Jeb's shirt collar and pulled him close until their faces were only several inches apart.

"Did. You. Give. That order?" Brium hissed.

"Yes," Jeb whispered. "I did."

Brium released Jeb, and stood up from his cross legged sitting position. He swapped the Harpy knife to his left hand, and pulled the pistol from his right pocket. Every move hurt to do; Brium had an extraordinary threshold for pain, but everything simply hurt to do.

He still had three rounds left in the pistol after using the other seven on various wounded Erasers.

"Then you are, of course, aware that they killed her?" Brium whispered.

"They weren't suppose to," Jeb whispered back. "They were only supposed to-"

"Capture me?" Brium finished for him.

"Yes."

"Ah," Brium pointed the pistol at Jeb's right leg. Jeb tried to flinch away.

"Don't move, Jeb. If you move, I might shoot you somewhere else, an artery for instance. That would be bad. If you let me do this correctly, it'll hurt, yes, but it won't cause any… 'permanent damage'."

And Jeb stopped moving. He closed his eyes and waited.

Brium fired one round into Jeb's right calf muscle.

Jeb cried out in pain.

"She was sixteen years old. She didn't know anything about you, or your operations. She didn't know who, or what I was, Jeb. She was innocent."

Jeb was now cradling his leg, writhing around on the ground.

"Okay. We'll take a quick recess," Brium said. He moved back o where he had hidden his things, picking up the shotgun from under the Eraser with a broken neck.

Brium retrieved his backpack and jacket from the bushes (he had decided that the blood left on his body had dried enough) He put the jacket on.

He walked back to a moaning Jeb with the shotgun in one hand and the backpack in the other. He set the backpack down, and once again sat cross legged in front of Jeb.

Brium put the empty shotgun in his lap, and pulled out one of the five shells he had in his pocket.

"So, what possessed you to come after me today? I mean, obviously you wanted my capture, but why now?"

Jeb breathed out hard.

"And you mentioned that I'm more important to you than you knew. How am I important?"

Brium loaded the shell into the shotgun and reached into his pocket for another.

"How am I important, Jeb?"

Jeb still hadn't replied. Brium loaded the second shell; he put the shotgun aside and pulled out the Harpy knife once again.

"Jeb?" Brium said, "You have one finger left on that hand. Then you're down to the thumb."

"The Director wants you dead," Jeb said. "This was the last chance she gave me to bring you in alive. After this, they'll be out to kill you."

"Ah," Brium sighed.

"So please, stop this now and come back with me. I'll explain everything to you if you just come with me." Jeb said, trying to sit up, and grimacing in pain at the attempt.

Brium checked Jeb's blood loss and noticed it wasn't as severe as it seemed at first glance. Jeb would be just fine after a few days recovery.

"You're trying to give me an ultimatum?" Brium laughed. "I'm giving the ultimatums, Jeb. And my ultimatum to you is you tell me why I'm so important or I take that pointer finger."

Jeb looked physically tired. "I didn't think you were capable of something like this, Brium."

"I told you you'd say that again… When you're pushed, Jeb, you can do anything," Brium informed him. "And I've been pushed. So very far."

Jeb was more than likely bluffing with Brium on how important he was. Jeb simply wanted him back, so by feeding him a story like that, it would make him more inclined to believe Jeb.

As if.

Brium closed his knife, and pocketed it. He pulled out the pistol once more. He ratcheted the slide back, ejecting a live round, and he swiftly caught it. He held in between thumb and forefinger in front of Jeb so Jeb could see it.

"You see this, Jeb? This is your life I'm holding right now. Notice that the bullet, the shell and the gunpowder are all in one place, and the primer is intact. It's all right here."

Jeb's eyes flashed from Brium's face to the 9MM bullet and back.

"Now, if you were dead, Jeb, the primer of this round would be discharged, the gunpowder would be burnt away, the shell would be laying around here somewhere, and the bullet would be lodged in your brain." Brium took a breath. "All of the components of this round would be strewn all over the place, and it would signify your loss of conscience existence in this world."

Brium looked Jeb right in the eye and knew he had the man's complete attention.

"Since the components are all still together, you're still alive."

Brium could tell he had lost Jeb completely. He needed to clarify.

"In short, Jeb, right here in my hand I hold your life," Brium dropped the bullet on top of Jeb's fingers in the cooler. "Your life, right at this moment is mine. I can do with it what I wish. And now I'm giving it back to you. On certain conditions."

Jeb looked at the 9MM bullet, laying on top of one of his severed fingers.

"Pay very close attention, Jeb. I'm only saying this once, and there's no going back for you if you fail to follow." Brium still had Jeb's undivided attention.

"If you ever come after me again, I'll kill you," Brium didn't break eye contact. "If you ever send Ari after me again, I'll kill him, and then I'll kill you. In fact, if anyone comes after me with the intention of taking my freedom, I'll kill them… Then I'll come for you, Jeb. And then you'll have to work excessively hard to prove that you weren't involved, and then work even harder to stay alive."

Brium stood to his full height and looked down. "Can I make that any more clear?"

Jeb shook his head, wincing in pain. "No, Brium… You can't…"

"Good…" Brium sighed again, and looked around, glancing at Ari to make sure he remained still.

He went to great lengths to keep that kid alive. It would be so much easier to just kill him.

"I won't again ask why I'm important to you, Jeb. Being important to you and being important are completely different things."

Brium slung his backpack on; he still held his knife.

"Give me your hand, Jeb. The left one."

Jeb looked up with a pleading stare.

"Do it, or I'll take it and maybe not give it back," Brium said quietly.

And Jeb slowly raised his left hand, with three fingers missing.

Brium took it, flipped it palm up and carved a huge X across the entire palm. Deep enough to leave a large, permanent scar.

Jeb flinched once again, but didn't make a sound.

"So you remember what was said today," Brium said, letting Jeb's hand go. "I'm giving you your fingers back, too. Thank you for your cooperation."

He leaned down, closed the cooler and picked up the shotgun, noting how much it hurt his entire body to do so. Brium straightened back up, and prepared to leave. He was going to walk to a field nearby and fly away.

It was time to go to Dallas.

It was time to meet the flock.

Brium turned to leave.

He only got a couple of steps when Jeb spoke.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Jeb said from behind him. "That girl in Los Angeles. You loved her?"

Brium didn't move. He didn't blink. He didn't breath.

"Yes," he finally said, not turning around. "I loved her. And you took her from me… So, Jeb, I feel compelled to inform you… that I'm capable of anything."

Brium turned back to face the man who had been integral to his creation.

"I'm capable of everything."

Jeb nodded. " I hope so... I really do, Brium… Because you're supposed to help save the world."

* * *

Author's Note: 

This is the longest andbest chapter so far, I'm sure, and it'll take a lot of work to outdo this one.

Again, does anyone know the date that Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports takes place in? Any help would be great!

And thanks again to you all for your consistent support. This story probably wouldn't be continued this fast (or even maybe at all) unless the massive support from you handful of people didn't support it so much.

Thanks to you all!


	19. Hypnotized

Okay, quick summation: the chip is gone! It's gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone! Sweet!

Though uh, when I mentioned the possible loss of the of my left hand, that's uh… kind of what happened…

That's right. My left hand is basically completely useless. Can't move it; can barely even feel it.

And was it worth it?

Uh, no. Actually, not really, no.

Because the Voice is STILL HERE!!!

So, hand not usable; Voice still here.

What have I accomplished?

Nothing.

Excellent. Just freakin' peachy.

So, needless to say, I cried a bunch. Not in front of anyone, but still a bunch.

Twice in as many days.

I'm now sure I'm a stereotypical teenaged girl.

Goodie.

Anyway, so back on our never ending quest to accomplish I don't even know what.

We had just left Dr. Martinez's place, as much as I didn't want to, and were now back en route to that canyon thingy where the others were.

Fang was being Fang which was fine, as it was nice and quiet, so I had loads of time to think.

Which actually wasn't that good, because I never seem to come up with good things to think about.

The current 'on the mind' menu was thinking about my useless hand , mentally pouting about the prevalent residence of some foreign Voice inside my head, wondering if and/or when I'll ever see Dr. Martinez or Ella again, and then of course all the other crap: the flock, saving the world, and everything else.

I'm thinking about so much I can't remember what to think about!

Or something…

I glanced back at Fang to make sure he hadn't fallen out of the sky; seriously, he was being incredibly quiet, even for him.

He looked right back at me and locked his eyes with mine.

"Max, we need to talk," he said.

Uh huh… Okay…

"'Bout what?"

If he brought up my drug induced overstated feelings of love for him, then he'd shortly be falling from the sky for real.

That's a promise.

"It's about Dr. Martinez," Fang said.

Oh, well I had been waiting for Fang's 'I don't like Dr. Martinez' speech.

This must be it.

"Have at it," I muttered.

"I found something in her office," he said.

"Was it a computer? Or maybe a chair? C'mon, tell me!" What the hell was he trying to say? Spit it out already!

He moved up to fly next to me and pulled something out of his pocket.

I recognized it instantly. It was that baby photo of the Gasman. The one we found almost a whole lifetime ago.

"I found this in Dr. Martinez's office, Max," Fang said. "In between a book about recombinant DNA theory and one about birds."

…

Huh?…

And it was from that point on that my initial imaginings of Dr,. Martinez drastically and maybe irreversibly changed.

What the hell was going on?!

"Exactly how much does Dr. Martinez know about us?" Fang asked.

"I don't know! How should I know?" I sputtered.

"Well, she seems to know more than your average bear," Fang said dryly. "I'm talking about a long term knowledge in matters concerning us."

"Wait, you searched her office?"

Why hadn't I done that?

"Uh, yeah. isn't it policy to find out about people who know we exist?" Fang replied. "Max, there's something wrong with that woman. She knows something, and knowing our luck it's something we don't know. I mean, obviously we can't trust her."

"Yes we can! We… can…" I trailed off.

Could we?

Oh, crap.

Whose side was Dr. Martinez on?

And it was suddenly that thought that defeated all of the other random thoughts, taking the award for most noticeable, and most pressing.

And this quickly became one of those times when I had literally nothing to say.

They're few and far in between, to the point of being extinct, but this was one of those moments that I could articulate not a single thought, and just sat there (probably looking stupid) in silence.

"What if she screwed up your hand on purpose, Max?" Fang said.

"No!" I yelled.

No.

She couldn't have.

Could she..?

We then flew in silence after my one word outburst. Fang clearly got the message to leave me the hell alone. We were almost back with the others, so I decided to put the ambiguously affiliated Dr. Martinez out of my mind and concentrate on seeing the rest of my flock again.

This had been the most bizarre trip in recent memory.

If only I had known when that thought had occurred to me, how much weirder things were going to get in the next few minutes, I may not have thought it and jinxed myself.

Oh well. Bring on the future.

Good; the canyon came into sight. I would be seeing everyone soon!

Fang seemed to agree with my happy thoughts of reunions and we both sped up in unison anxious to be back with the rest of our only family.

We both noticed the absence of smoke and assumed the rest of my intrepid little flock were being halfway intelligent for once and not doing anything to draw attention .

No unnecessary fire.

How many times had I told them that?

It brought a smile to my face to think they were finally being smart.

We wouldn't survive very long if we kept making grievously stupid and easily avoided mistakes.

It broke my heart a bit when I learned that the rest of the flock being smart just wasn't the case here.

We swooped in, and I swear my heart stopped for several seconds.

The camp was destroyed beyond recognition and the signs of a massive fight were inconceivably obvious.

Which all, of course, led to the one simple fact that my flock had been captured.

Or killed…

But I didn't let myself think the second part for long; I pushed it out of my head almost as quickly as it had arrived.

We landed in the middle of the destroyed campsite, and Fang muttered a four little expletive that I won't mention.

"They got them" Fang said, stating the obvious and looking around with anxious eyes.

My thoughts precisely.

I looked up to survey the surrounding area, to maybe find something that could help with what would soon be some kind of rescue mission.

My hear stopped once again.

There was someone standing about ninety feet away. How we didn't spot him from the air I have no idea.

My mouth fell open, and I just stared.

And whoever he was, he stared back. A look of fascination playing over his features.

He was maybe a few years older than me; still in his teens.

He was tall, over six feet, and looked lean, though it was kind of heard to tell for sure under the black coat that he wore.

He had short, straight dark brown hair, and a patch of what looked like duct tape over one eye.

I didn't move, and probably didn't breath. I just stared for who knows how long.

And this boy just stared back.

"Max, what do you want to do no-" Fang stopped talking quite abruptly, and I could only assume that he had turned around and had spotted this boy.

I was transfixed and couldn't turn to see for myself. It was like I was hypnotized.

And for the first time, the boy moved. He walked very deliberately towards us. He moved in such a fluid motion, that it looked almost like he walked on air; there wasn't a single wasted motion.

It only added to the hypnotizing effect.

I waited for Fang to say or do something, but for all I knew he was hypnotized, too.

Come on Fang, do something!

But he didn't, and in a few short moments the boy was less than ten feet away.

He had never once broke eye contact with me.

He stopped, and gave a small smile.

"Hello, Max."


	20. Wings

It had hurt a lot to fly to Dallas.

Even Brium admitted that to himself.

It had hurt a lot.

But he had done so anyway, carrying the shotgun with him for the entire flight.

In his weakened state, Brium knew he'd need all the protection he could get his hands on, and the shotgun had proved useful thus far. Why not keep it a bit longer?

Brium had also had the cover of darkness to fly under, which had indeed been his plan. It was a nice, length night flight. It was almost distracting enough to make Brium completely forget the amount of physical pain he was in.

Almost.

He went at a relaxed pace the whole way; no one could see him, so there was no rush, and despite the pain, the flight proved quite enjoyable.

He decided to not listen to the radio, favoring his own thoughts for this particular flight; he had so many of them after the bout of Questions and Answers he had played with Jeb.

Brium had more of his questions answered in those few minutes than at any other point in his life.

They had indeed killed Dr. Ruby Foster as punishment for what she did to help him.

Brium would take certainly take vengeance for that.

That and the other murder. The one of someone far more important to him.

In fact, Brium was already seriously debating whether or not to proceed with the war he had been thinking up for months.

A full-scale war with the School, and all of the men and woman who worked for it.

The entire corporation or group or whatever it was that they belonged to.

War.

Complete and total war.

A war Brium didn't start, but would fight; perhaps even end.

All that was left was the final decision.

Once Brium got started, nothing could stop him.

Brium decided to wait a little longer.

He coasted with ease into Dallas airspace, and dropped several thousand feel of altitude. He maneuvered to the outskirts of the massive city (which was absolutely beautiful that night) and began looking for a good place to land.

He found it in a darkened park, and zipped quickly to the ground, landing without a sound.

He hid the shotgun, emptying all of the shells; he would come back for it later.

It took Brium about twenty minutes of walking around admiring the Dallas nightlife before he found what he was looking for: an ATM machine.

He withdrew five hundred dollars (the most the machine would give him) from his bank account (listed another a different false name entirely) and proceeded to phase two of his Dallas excursion.

Brium walked for nearly a half hour longer searching for the perfect run down motel to stay in.

He found one.

The man behind the counter asked for Brium's ID. Brium informed him that he had lost it. He wasn't going to use that ID anymore.

The man raised an eyebrow at Brium's tattered appearance, and seemed on the brink of turning him down, when Brium put one of the hundred dollar bills on the counter.

"And if I get through the duration of my stay, which I can assure you will only be a few days, without any… problems, you'll get two more of these upon my departure."

And the man had asked which room he wanted.

The room (53) was on the far side of the building, facing the least amount of anything; nice and quiet. The way Brium liked it.

He took a shower, checking all of his major wounds; noting how well they were healing. He estimated that in two weeks he'd be good as new.

Brium had then hopped into the room's bed, and fell asleep almost instantly.

He slept deep, or as deep as Brium ever sleeps, waking every two or three hours to check everything over once again.

It was the epitome of Brium's lifestyle.

He did this for nearly fifteen hours, leaving the motel the next day for lunch, which was to be some fast food joint. He ate quite a bit; far more than normal, relishing every single bite.

It was all needed energy; he was healing after all, so it let the massive consumption slide this time. After lunch, Brium had gone to a small thrift store, buying enough food to snack on for the duration of his stay; he didn't need much. The lunch would get him through quite a bit.

And then it was back to the motel room to sleep some more until darkness fell.

Brium had noted the few bemused looks he had received for the patch of duct tape over one eye, and the slightly bloody shorts (he was grateful once again that his sweatshirt had soaked up most of the blood) and had responded with amused expressions of his own.

It had been an interesting day.

And now back in bed, Brium reflected for perhaps the thousandth time on what he had learned the previous day.

Almost everything he had needed to know.

In one sitting.

Amazing.

When it became late enough that night, Brium had quested to the park where he had landed, and had retrieved the shotgun; he had walked there and had flown back. It would have been hard to explain why he was walking around town with a shotgun, even if this was Texas.

And then more sleeping, until about four o'clock the next morning.

That's when the searching would begin, and it was the part that Brium had been dreading.

It had been a few days since the flock's football game ineptitude, and they may had flown the coop, so to speak, by now.

This whole trip to Dallas may very well have been for naught, but it was the only lead that Brium had, so he had and would continue to follow it.

At first light, Brium was already on the outskirts of Dallas beginning his search. He would get a few thousand feet up, and just fly.

If they were still here, they wouldn't go too far from the city, and would probably be staying in a canyon or near water, if there was any of it in quantities around here, so both those places became prime places to search.

Brium scanned the earth, concentrating on every single detail. He could concentrate for a long time without rest, and was putting it to good use; he would be out here a long time.

Unless he was very, very lucky.

Brium wondered if he shouldn't have waited two days before searching, but quickly dismissed the though.

In the state he had been in when he had arrived, he had needed both days to heal sufficiently just in case he got in a tight spot.

It was standard procedure, and Brium was glad he hadn't gone against common sense.

And anyway, if the flock had moved on and Brium had missed them he would just continue searching. It wasn't like he did much else with his life. He could devote all of his time to tracking them down.

And then what?

Brium didn't know.

Maybe that war.

Brium smiled to himself as he searched.

What did his life amount to? What had he really done to make a difference?

Not much.

Yet.

He had an eight year oath to uphold, and he would do so.

Maybe finding the flock would provide the answers to these questions.

Maybe.

The eleventh hour of Brium's search, and Brium noted that in a few hours it would begin to get dark, making the search a little more difficult; Brium would continue anyway.

He was right in the middle of deciding how much longer he would continue the search, when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a canyon in the bleak Texan landscape, and made a sharp turn to investigate.

A quick glance in the other direction, and Brium could see Dallas off in the distance.

As Brium flew over the canyon, he spotted something out of the ordinary instantly. He quickly angled himself down, landing soundlessly and straightened up, alert immediately.

Something wasn't right here.

It was what was let of a campsite, Brium guessed. There was the remains of a fire a few feet off, and it looked as if people had been here recently.

But that wasn't what had drawn Brium's attention.

Brium thought he had been seeing things, but as he walked to the object, it quickly became apparent that he wasn't just seeing things and something was awfully amiss.

He crouched down, and carefully picked up the object.

It was an arm; a dull silver arm with wires sticking out of where it should've been attached to an elbow. It's hand looked more like a claw, but that mattered very little with the overall description of it.

Brium was holding a robotic arm.

And it took him all of two seconds to piece it all together.

The School had evolved. They were making robots now.

And that meant that said robots had been here, and had been damaged.

By the flock.

They had been here!

Brium stood up, and let the arm fall to the ground.

There had been a fight, and it appeared as though the flock had lost.

Brium breathed deep, and looked to the sky, planning what to do next.

He decided it best to look around for any more pieces of these robots, and found only a scrap of metal here or a wire there.

The ground wasn't as disturbed as it could have been, which implied a good portion of the fight may have taken place in the air.

Brium spent nearly fifteen minutes examining everything he could about the area, searching for any answers with what exactly had happened here.

Soon enough the tracking would begin.

This had happened within the past several days, Brium concluded, which meant tonight he would be leaving Dallas.

In a direction that he did not know yet.

And, what was more concerning, was if it was robots he was now up against, how good were they?

Brium made himself ready for the worst.

He was just about to take off to try to pick up any clues about what direction the flock may have been taken, when he heard something.

It sounded like…

Wings.

The only sound that Brium had ever heard that sounded similar enough to what Brium was hearing now, was the sound that Brium's wings made when he was in flight.

Brium took cover behind a rock about ten feet away, pulling the pistol from his pocket as he did so.

He looked once again to the sky, and for maybe the second or third time in his life, Brium was transfixed by something.

Two kids with wings were landing in the middle of the ransacked campsite.

Two kids just like him.

He recognized one instantly, and with the information supplied by Jeb, recognizing the other wasn't difficult.

It was Fang and Max.

Brium pocketed the pistol, and sat for a few moments.

So this was it.

The pair turned away, and Brium casually stood up and moved a few silent steps from the rock, and stopped.

And simply stared.

Max turned slowly, spotted him and froze instantly.

Which was fine. Brium was used to having that effect on people.

So they just stared at each other for a few moments until Fang spun around and became similarly frozen

Brium wondered is Fang would recognize him.

For another few seconds the standoff continued, so Brium decided that he'd better do something.

So, without breaking his eye contact with Max, he walked silent towards her stopping a few paces away.

He gave a small smile, hopefully with the implication that he meant her no harm.

Quite the opposite, actually.

If what he had seen here was true, then the rest of the flock, Iggy, Nudge, Gasman and Angel were now once again in the clutches of the School.

They would need to move fast if rescue was to be an option.

Brium once again had to make the first move.

He continued smiling.

"Hello, Max," he said.

* * *

Author's Note: 

I hope this is driving you all insane.

Stuff'll happen next chapter, I promise!


	21. Trust

And yet I said nothing. I don't know what was wrong with me.

I mean normally I'm just o the spot and ready with a thousand smart ass remarks, but that just wasn't the case right now. And I couldn't figure out why.

"When someone says 'hello' it's prudent to give some sort of response," the boy said, smiling as though this was greatly humorous.

He waited another second before turning to look behind me, I assume at Fang.

I was right.

"Fang! My, you've grown. Good to see you're still alive."

Huh..?

"Who are you!" I found myself demanding loudly.

"Better," the boy nodded. "I'm a friend. You can be assured of that."

"Brium…" Fang said from behind me.

I whirled on him, eyes wide with surprise. "What?" I said.

"His name's Brium," Fang said softly, as though he couldn't believe what he was saying.

I turned back to face the boy, who was smiling wider. "He remembers me," the boy shook his head, smiling wider. "And he's correct," the boy turned back to face me. "My name is Brium."

All at once it sunk in again that we were standing in a wreaked campsite where my flock had more than likely been taken captive again.

"Where's the rest of them!" I asked loudly, starting to panic.

Where were they? Was this boy connected to their disappearance?

I readied myself for a fight,

He was an agent of the School; he had to be.

"I can assure you I'm not working for them; quite the opposite, actually," he said, still smiling. "I've been here a little more than fifteen minutes. They were already gone when I got here. What's more, they appear to have been gone at least a half a day. We need to hurry if we're going to catch up."

I'm not sure how he knew what I had been thinking, maybe he could tell all by me tensing up for a fight.

He was good, this guy. I was already way alert.

"We?" I said, giving a derisive laugh. "There's no we, dude. Just me and Fang."

"To get the rest of your flock back, I believe you're going to need my help." Brium, if that was his name, said evenly.

"We can't trust you. We don't even know who you are," I replied. This was going to lead to some kind of fight, and I was glad I had Fang with me. Together we could take this punk for sure.

Brium raised an eyebrow, and I finally figured out what was so entrancing about his stare. He had different color eyes. The right was ice blue, the left a mint green. It gave him a hypnotic, unorthodox stare that I, as much as I hate to admit it, was transfixed by.

"On the contrary," he said, "Fang knows who I am. I thought he already stated that."

I turned back to Fang, this whole meeting thing getting weirder and weirder by the moment.

Fang was being utterly un-Fang-like. He was staring at this newcomer like he was the second coming of Christ or something.

"Fang?" I said, trying to keep myself calm. I didn't have time for this sort of thing. Cavorting around with a potential minion of the School, who could take us out at any moment wasn't something I tended to do.

"He's from the School," Fang said, finding words. "But he's not one of them, Max. He's one of us."

Huh?

"You might want to step back," Brium said, also moving back a few paces, and it was then I spotted the cut slits on either side of his jacket.

They looked exactly like what we had to do in order to allow our wings to open to fly.

To fly…

Brium unfurled his wings.

He had wings.

They were black mainly, mottled here and there with many spots that seemed to mix the color tan with a light brown; the wingspan was more than mine, and more then even Fangs' or Iggy's for that matter.

My jaw dropped open, and once again I was lost for words.

Brium retracted his wings and they once again disappeared inside his jacket.

"There," he said, raising an eyebrow again. "You believe me now?"

"I, um…" I mumbled.

"Trust me, Max. I'm a friend. Maybe the most important friend you'll ever have."

"Max," Fang said. "We can trust him."

There he was again, playing the leader whose opinion was more important than mine.

"We don't know that Fang!" I raised my voice, "He could be working for them! He could be working for Jeb! How did he know who we were and where our camp was?"

"Quite simply, I found this camp due to over ten hours of looking for it. I saw your little excursion at the football game and came to find you. It was on the off chance that you were still here, which I guess you are."

"How did know our names?" I demanded, voice seething,

"Jeb told me. I talked to him a couple days ago."

And there it was. He had talked to Jeb just a couple days ago. Jeb had sent him out here, it was so blatantly obvious.

"Fang, we're gonna have to beat the hell outta this guy," I said, tensing up again.

"Max, I wouldn't do that," Fang said.

Who side was he one? Geez!

"And why not, Fang!" I shouted at him.

"Because he's a much better fighter than we are."

"Yeah, right," I said. "I guess we'll find out."

"I'd listen to Fang, Max. I didn't come all this way to get in a fight with the people I came to meet," Brium sighed. "I can leave, of course, but the situation in different than I imagined. The rest of your flock is now more than likely back in the possession of the School, and I'm offering my services to get them back."

"They're back with the School because you helped the Whitecoats!" I yelled. This was really going nowhere. We had to get moving

Brium smiled again. "You can believe whatever you want to believe, Max."

He turned to leave. "I hadn't had time before you arrived to deduce which direction they went after taking the rest of the flock, but be warned, I believe the School is using something robotic as henchmen now. Whatever it is, it could prove more deadly than Erasers."

Brium was walking away now. "It was good to see you, Fang; it was nice to meet you, Max. See you both in another life."


	22. Seven Years

"Max, this is a really bad idea," Fang said from behind me.

"Yeah, tell me about it," I responded. Walking into an obvious trap was quite normally a bad idea, and I for one didn't expect this occasion to be much different.

We had picked up the trail of a truck, the only tracks of any sort around, and were now following them to what I can only assume will be the others.

And probably some sort of wonderful group of School employees.

So we had a nice cruising altitude, heading for probable disaster.

A day in the life.

"That's not what I meant, Max," Fang said, and I could catch the agitation in his voice.

"I know we could trust him."

Oh, so that's what this was about.

I rolled my eyes. "You know we can't. We can't trust anyone. Remember Anne? Jeb? Ringing any bells? This is what they do, Fang. They get someone who seems great, send them to us, and they screw us over."

Not Brium," Fang was just adamant about this.

Brium had left us, if I remembered correctly. And that was fine by me.

The guy was just… He knew us; he knew who we were. How could he know that?

And he was… like us.

Speaking from personal experience, we don't usually come across others like us.

"And why not?" I asked.

Fang pulled up and hovered, and I had to do the same.

I stared at him. Well, more like glared at him.

"He saved my life once," Fang said quietly.

All right, time to find out what the hell I had missed.

"Okay, Fang. We don't have much time, so make it quick, please… So you know this guy. Lets hear it."

Fang took a breath. "I was seven years old, and the Whitecoats took me to an… arena, I guess. There were four Erasers, and we had to fight them. Brium and I. He was there before I was. So, we did. It was to the death, Max. Us or them."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you never told me this, why?"

Fang shrugged, "I didn't think it mattered. I never saw him before or since. I thought he'd be dead by now."

"So you won, I guess.," I said, stating the obvious.

If Fang was here, what else could have happened?

"We did." Fang nodded. "I've never seen anyone fight like him. He was ten, then. Three years older than we are."

I contemplated this for a moment, flapping my wings just enough to stay afloat.

"So, how can we trust him now? That was seven years ago, Fang. The School could have broken him easily by now. He could be, and probably is, working for them."

Fang smiled. It was a smile that said he had won this argument. And it didn't make sense, because he hadn't.

"If he was working for them, he'd have done something, Max. I mean, everyone but us are already captured right?"

I nodded, "It would seem that way. Hence the rescue mission you're stalling right now."

Fang smiled wider. "If he was working for them, we'd be in their hands right now, too."

I sighed. "Who is this guy? Jesus? Fang, even with the current bizarreness between us, I still think we'd be able to take him."

Fang shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, Max."

I rolled my eyes again and began flying faster towards the unknown.

If Fang hadn't been acting so weird lately I might've been more inclined to listen to him, but Fan was acting just so… un-Fang-like recently.

It made everything he said debatable.

And I hated that. But it was true.

I wanted the old Fang back.

And if Fang wasn't weird enough., we had some new player who may or may not (probably may not) be working against us.

A new piece on the chessboard of our lives.

But his eyes…

He had seemed almost completely honest.

Or he was a great actor.

It sucks so much not having the simple blessing of being able to trust people.

It sucks big.

We flew in silence for a while. That feeling of impending doom becoming more and more noticeable with each passing minute.

Fang didn't make a sound, though I know when Fang has his mind made up about something he lets you know.

So, he must've known that now I'm on the fence about everything, too.

What if maybe this Brium did want to help us?

Why he would do that, I have no idea. What would he gain?

Fang had planted the seed of doubt and he knew it.

He didn't have to argue with me because I was now arguing with me.

And he knew it.

And it drove me nuts.

He knew that, too.

The ground below us was nearly a complete blur, we were moving so fast. We weren't all that high up, but still, we were simply hauling.

I guess having your whole family taken gets a person moving.

"So, do you feel at all nervous that we're flying right into a trap?"

This was Fang trying to lighten the mood.

"Absolutely," I muttered back. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

He chuckled a bit at that.

And we flew the rest of the way in silence, making sure that the dirt trail the truck had left never left our sight.

And before we knew it, there was a truck. A big trailer truck sitting in the middle of nowhere right off a main highway that also seemed to lead to nowhere.

Perfect for a trap, but we really didn't have any other recourse.

I would rather die than abandon my flock.

This was the only option. And I had to take it.

And Fang was right there with me.

That simple fact, it occurred to me, did wonders with repairing any damage that been done to our freindship over the past few days.

The disagreements, the arguments, the kiss… all of that just sort of vanished when I knew that despite it all, Fang was still here.

It was difficult to thin of more to to ask of someone.

"Well," Fang said in a businesslike manner as he eyes the trap before us. "There's one good thing about all this."

I glanced at him to see what this could possibly be.

"You loooove me.' He held his arms out as wide as he could. You love me _this_ much."

And with that, he was gone in a flash, leading the charge towards who knew what.

And now I was good and pissed off and I followed, already ready for a fight.

That bastard.


	23. Obvious Trap

In just a few seconds I caught up with Fang, and we angled ourselves down towards the truck, which hopefully held the rest of the flock. Our exact target was the metal roof of said semi truck, and we were there in what seemed like an eternity, but was actually far less than that. Time was slowed down, it seemed, as we raced towards the truck. And the distance was far less than it appeared.

We were there in moments, though long before that we spotted dozens of them, clustered all around the truck.

Erasers.

But the Erasers were dead, so these were something else.

Brium may have been right. This may be something worse.

They looked almost just like Erasers; the newer Erasers, anyway. These dudes had wings.

And even blanker expressions than the norm.

They didn't move, even as we flew right over them. I was waiting for the world to go black, signifying my death, but that just didn't happen.

We landed on the trailer of the truck with two loud thumps, and Fang took up a defensive position, covering me.

I banged on the roof with my good right hand, knowing how pointless this all was. We had known we were flying into a trap, and we did it anyway on the offhand we'd make it out.

Even though we knew we wouldn't.

There was no point living if we weren't all together. And I was willing to die for that once chance to rescue my flock.

I pounded on the roof.

"Is anyone there!?" I yelled, as Fang muttered a string of curses somewhere off the my right.

"Max!"

It was Iggy's voice. Muffled to an extreme by the metal between us.

"Iggy!" I shouted back. "We're getting you out!"

"Best of luck!" I heard Iggy yell.

I didn't know what to make of that one.

"Max," a voice said from below.

I knew who it was; I recognize that voice anywhere.

I stood up and glanced at Fang; his face was set with concentration, and he was in a slight crouch ready to spring into action.

And then I turned to where the voice had emanated from.

And there Jeb was, looking solemn.

And also badly hurt.

Angel stood next to him, smiling.

I guess she had implemented the plan of her "switching sides" that we had come up with just in case this sort of thing transpired.

Either that or she had actually switched sides.

I shuddered a bit at that thought.

I looked down at Jeb and Angel, the dozens of starnge Erasers standing all around, as frozen as stone and staring back.

"Hi, Jeb," I said as off hand as possible. "How you doin'?"

I mentioned Jeb was hurt, right? If my blood hadn't been pumping as hard as it was, I may have wondered just a little more about that.

His left hand was completely encased in a cast, and his arm was slung to his chest on a medical sling. In his other hand, he held a crutch which he used to prop himself up.

There were several smaller bandages on his face as well.

What the hell?

Jeb sighed. "Well, Max," he said. "How are we going to do this?"

Angel just smiled at his side.

"The regular way," I replied. "We're not in the business of giving up, Jeb."

I cocked my head a bit and gave a smile. "What the hell happened to you?"

Jeb's face reddened visibly. "Please just come quietly, Max. Angel as you can see has done the right thing. If you just give it up, we won't have to harm you in any way."

This speech was awfully familiar.

I opened my mouth to give what I hoped would be a witty, Max-ish reply, but I was beaten to it.

Not by Fang, who was being Fang and staying quiet, but by someone else.

"I wonder Jeb," a calm and cool voice said, "if anyone believes your word anymore."

I was looking at Jeb, and I had what a moment of surprise that had to crack the top ten… no make it five all time biggest surprises in my life.

And, as you're aware, I've lived a life so full of them that a top five addition was no small feat.

Jeb face went from its normal calmness to complete shock in such a small amount of time, I doubted it was possible at all.

But Jeb looked like he was seeing the impossible, and I felt as I watched him do so, that I was seeing the impossible, too.

Jeb looked… afraid.

"Does anyone, Jeb?" the voice continued. "You've lied so many times, I wonder if even you yourself believe what you say. Or if you even care. Ignorance is truly bliss."

Jeb whispered one word, just as I recognized where I had heard this voice.

Jeb whispered that one word so softly, that, had I been a normal person, I wouldn't have heard it at all.

But I was me, so I did.

"Brium..." he said.

And with a thud beside me, he was there; he had come from somewhere behind us.

I jumped a mile as he furled his wings back to his body and pointed a small gun squarely at Jeb.

It was him. The boy we had left back at our ruined camp.

Brium.

I looked back at Jeb, who looked even more shocked than he did moments earlier.

I turned back to Brium, who was smiling.

"That's the problem with having an unpredictable variable, Jeb," Brium said. "You never know what it's going to do next."

The Eraser replacements all moved in unison to attack stances.

"If any of you lot move, Jeb dies. I doubt very much any of you are faster than this bullet, so I'd take my word for it If I were you."

Brium raised an eyebrow. "Does that compute?"

"Don't attack!" Jeb ordered, staring and Brium and the gun he had that was trained on him.

"Good call, Jeb... I see you've recovered some. Did they manage to reattach all of your fingers? I was worried for a moment that I was too rough."

"What the hell is going on?!" I shouted looking back and forth from Jeb to Brium.

Talk about being left out.

"Long story. Over tea sometime, perhaps," Brium replied, not taking his eyes off Jeb. "In short, Max, I did that." Brium gestured at Jeb.

Huh?

"Can you fight with your hand like that?" Brium asked, as Jeb puzzled over what to say next.

I blinked, and resolved myself to being as touchy and me-ish as possible. "Yes!" I hissed. "I'm fine!

How did he even know about my hand?

"Fang? You ready? This may get bad," Brium said.

"I'm ready," Fang said.

I looked at Fang, and saw he was grinning ear to ear. It was the biggest smile I had ever seen him adorn.

"Good," Brium smiled. "We have forty-one of these robotic fellows, five of which appear to have some sort of dart gun. Probably tranquilizer. Be careful."

I blinked again. It was going to be a fight.

"Max! What's going on up there?" Iggy's voice drifted up to me. I thought I also heard Nudge, Gazzy and even Total as well, talking excitedly down there. They were all right.

Now it was time for us to do our part, I guess.

I looked at Jeb again, and then at Angel, who wore a confuse expression. I was just contemplating what that could mean when Brium spoke to me again.

"I suppose you still don't trust me, do you?" he said.

"Not really, no," I said back, looking down at the overwhelming force below us. "I mean, obviously not! No duh!"

"Okay, then," Brium gave a more grim smile.

"If it's any consolation, Jeb," Brium said, raising his voice so the man could hear him, "this one isn't personal."

He lowered his voice. "I sincerly hope you two are ready."

And Brium shot Jeb.


	24. Blackout

All at once, things exploded.

Jeb spun around, and hit the ground clutching his right shoulder.

Brium fired again and again, and I had very little idea what was happening. The Eraser replacements began attacking, and I saw Fang kick one in its head.

One launched itself at me and I hit out reflexively with my good hand, punching it across its face.

And let me tell you, that hurt.

A lot.

"Ow!" I said, thinking of nothing else clever to say at the time.

I looked up quickly to see even more Eraser replacements launching themselves in the air to attack us.

Then something buzzed by my ear.

"Move!" I heard Brium snap, and I was suddenly lifted off my feet and the whole world was a blur. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, taking cover behind the truck.

"What the--" I was starting to get really pissed off at this point with my lack of control recently.

It was really starting to grate on me. I mean, really.

"Stay down," Brium said, as I looked around to gather my bearings.

I was being ordered. Someone was ordering me around.

"Just who do you think you are?!" I shouted at Brium.

He glanced at me and smiled.

"Not now. You can yell at me later," he smiled. He raised his voice. "Fang? Are you still with us?"

"Yeah," I heard Fang mutter from… under the truck.

How in the world had he gotten there? The truck was lower to the ground than most semis, and there were plates, maybe meant for armor, going down from the main part of the trailer, leaving only two feet or so of space to crawl under the thing. How had Fang done that so fast?

Anyway, it didn't matter. All that matter was that was getting ridiculous! We had to rescue the others! They were right in front of us!

Now we needed to--

"Fang, work your way to the end of the truck, and get that door open. I'll cover you," Fang raised his voice again. "One more still has a tranquilizer gun, and I'm not sure if the others picked up the dropped ones. Caution, please."

"Got it," Fang shouted back.

And then it occurred to me, as Brium was looking around for another target, of what just happened.

"Oh my God…" I said, getting as low as I could and waiting for the Eraser replacements to come get us.

"You shot Jeb!"

"Wasn't the first time," Brium responded casually. "If he doesn't shape up, it won't be the last."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I didn't play that way. My flock didn't play that way. If we did stuff like that, we'd be no better than the Whitecoats! I have a no gun policy for a reason!

Like always, a million thoughts were running through my brain all at once. Wonderful thoughts such as: Were we going to be able to rescue the flock? They're right there for Christ sake! Were the Eraser replacement robot thingies going to kill us? Was Angel pretending or had she been brainwashed? Was I going insane? Did Fang actually care about me? And either way, what kind of game was he playing?

And who the hell is Brium?

The truck was giving us cover, but soon the Eraser replacements would be all over us. We hadn't been here long, and had probably surprised them with our insanely quick disappearing skills. Or rather, Brium's insane 'grab Max and run' skills. Either way, they'd soon figure out what had happened, and when they did we'd be in trouble.

And before I could think about anything else, Brium had zipped right by me and moved with immense grace to the back of the truck, where the doors could be opened.

"Stay out of sight for a second, Max," he said as he passed me.

The hell I would.

"Fang?" he shouted when he arrived at the back of the truck's trailer.

"Yeah?!" Fang's voice was muffled from being under the truck.

"You ready?!"

"Yeah!"

I followed Brium and managed to catch a glimpse of his face. He smiling again. It was like everything was funny to this guy.

He raised his gun.

"Go!"

And Brium sprung from behind the truck, firing twice. He vanished from view.

Two more shots.

And I followed. It only took a moment to get to the end of the trailer, and to race out. I was going to help Fang get that door open.

Another gunshot.

"Fang, I'm coming! We have to do this quick!"

There was only one problem; when I got there, Fang was on the ground right at the foot of the door.

He wasn't moving.

Another two shots

"Fang!" I shouted, racing to him.

I was just about to arrive where Fang was when Brium appeared again, backing up quickly, gun raised.

He fired again into what I could now see was a crowd of those Eraser-bots.

And once again, to my complete dismay, Brium grabbed me and yanked be back behind the cover of the truck.

"What are you doing!" I shouted, trying to break free of his grip. "Fang's out there! He's hurt!"

"Fang's fine!" Brium hissed. "They got him with a dart; he's asleep. He's probably safer than we are."

"What about the others!" I said trying to break free of his grip once again.

"Door's locked. Thought we might get lucky; thought wrong," Brium said.

I was about to say 'Just shoot the damn lock', but movement caught my attention and I turned to see one of the Eraser-bots coming towards us from behind the truck were we had just been moments before.

In one of the fastest moves I've ever seen anyone do, Brium let me go, swung around, caught the Eraser-bot with his left hand, grabbing its head, and he fired once into it's right eye.

Brium let the Eraser-bot drop to the ground, as sparks burst from its eye, and smoke began rising out of its fake fur.

"Brium!"

Jeb's voice.

"Are you up again, Jeb?" Brium shouted back. "Did I not shoot you hard enough?"

That's right. He had shot Jeb.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine," Brium said quietly, giving a smile. "He always is."

"You're outnumbered and surrounded! There's no way out!"

"Hasn't ever impaired me before!" Brium shouted back.

"I need to get to Fang," I said, trying to move past Brium again. He blocked me.

Again.

And he dragged me, and I was struggling like a maniac so it wasn't easy, to the front of the truck.

"Let me go!"

Like that would stop this guy.

"They've got him. He's been moved him behind their lines. We can't get to him."

I considered punching him in the face, but something stopped me.

I don't know what did, but something stopped me.

"All right, new plan," Brium muttered to me.

"Throw the gun out here and come out Brium!" Jeb's voice drifted to us again. "Max! You, too!"

Oh, so Brium gets first mention?! That really pissed me off.

Brium arrived at the cab of the truck, and glanced to his side to make sure none of the Eraser-bots were trying to flank us.

I was tempted right then to sprint back to check if Fang was really gone from where he had been, but something told me Brium was telling the truth.

I stayed where I was, crouching down and waiting.

I knew that at this point, I alone couldn't save my flock. I couldn't save Fang, either. Doing anything at this moment would be pointless; there were too many of them. And if I fell, then who would save the flock? Brium? I wasn't putting any faith in that guy. Sorry.

"Max, keep an eye on our flanks, please," Brium mounted the truck, carrying the gun carefully, and pried the door open, snapping the gun up as he did so.

His eyes widened slightly, and without a sound he dropped quickly to the ground.

Just as numerous darts were fired past, coming from the cab itself. The darts made the exact sound I had heard right before Brium had pulled me behind the truck.

I had just missed being hit by a tranquilizer dart.

Brium stood up, checked that he was sufficient under cover, and looked at me.

"Keys aren't there. I could hotwire it, but not under fire like that." He looked sullen. "They might have us, here."

"Bullshit!" I shouted back. We Aren't giving up! The flock's right there!" I pointed to the truck.

Brium stared at me for a few moments. "Bang on the truck, Max. See if they answer."

All right, fine.

I did.

I pounded on the truck with my good right hand, which still hurt from punching that Eraser-bot.

"Iggy! You there!? Nudge! Gasman! I pounded harder and harder on the side of the truck.

They didn't answer.

"There's a couple of them in there. Put the flock under as soon as you got their attention the first time. Door's locked, they have Fang, and as soon as Jeb gets tired of pleading with us, which will be quite soon I imagine, they're going to rush us, and we can't stop them," Brium said.

I looked back, deciding that for this time only, I would reconsider one of my rules.

"What about your gun? Just shoot them!"

Brium smiled.; always smiling. "I could shoot one more, then that option's gone."

I blinked.

He had only one more bullet.

"This is your last chance, you two!" Jeb's voice drifted over again.

For the billionth time today, I wasn't able to give a smart-ass response.

Brium looked over my shoulder, snapped the gun up and fired.

And my world went black.

* * *

Author's Note:

Well, stuff's happening, anyway.

Hope everyone's still enjoying the story.

Has anyone read Final Warning yet? Heard it sucked big time.


	25. Fiftyseven Hours

Blackness, blackness, blackness and then suddenly… light.

I opened my eyes quickly, ready to spring up and fight. I dunno what knocked me down, but I was going to take 'em down, whoever they were.

I sat up and established my surroundings.

The only issue here is that whoever it was that I was, it wasn't out in the desert hunkered behind a truck for cover.

It was a motel room. I was in a motel room.

I blinked, trying to make my vision as clear as possible, my acute hearing trying to detect any threats.

What if I was in the School? What if I had been captured again, and this motel room was some sort of set? A ploy for some reason that only the sick mind of a Whitecoat could grasp; was that what this was?

"Good morning, Max."

I recognized that voice.

I turned, and there he was.

Brium.

He was sitting in a chair by the door, staring at me. I realized now that I was in the far bed of a two bed motel room (yes, I guess this was actually an actual motel room) and Brium was here.

Which meant…

"Where's Fang? The others?!" I exclaimed, trying to get up.

"Don't get up, Max," Brium said.

Too late. I tried getting up and suddenly I was so woozy I had to lay down again.

"You'll still be a bit dizzy, I would imagine," Brium said. "And in answer to your query, I'm afraid the rest of the flock are now in Jeb's hands. They're probably at the School right now."

"What? You left them? You abandoned them?" I was nearly shouting.

"To save you and I from the same fate, yes, that's what I did," Brium said calmly, staring at me with his mismatched eyes.

I quieted instantly. He was going to explain what had happened, it seemed, so I decided to listen.

"You were hit by one of the darts and I used my last bullet to shoot your attacker. I was a little late; he had already got you," Brium smiled a bit. "Anyway, that scratch on your neck, you may feel it, that was my doing. I'm sorry."

I felt my neck, and felt a huge scab extending a few inches along my neck. It was as if…

"You tried to cut my throat?!"

"No, I accomplished exactly what I was trying to do. Will you let me continue, please?"

Oh, this had to be a good explanation.

"To get us out of there, a hostage situation seemed called for. From what I can tell, Jeb wants absolutely no harm to come to you. I threatened harm, and--I wish you could have seen his face, Max--he let us go."

My mouth opened, and it took me a second to figure what to say. "So you left Fang and the others then, huh?"

"Apparently," Brium replied. "Would you rather be with them?"

"Yes! Absolutely!" And I would. I would be there in the School, the worst place on Earth, simply to be with my flock. And me not being there meant…

I had let them down… I had let them all down…

"Then I suppose I severely overestimated your intelligence," Brium cocked his head. "I'm hoping you prove smarter than you're demonstrating right now, Max."

Oh, so now he was insulting my intelligence? Who the hell was this guy, and who the hell did he think he was?

Brium didn't even let me respond. "You're going to need to be at the top of your game if you're going to stick with me. I'm not going to let someone as reckless as you accompany me."

"Who said I want to be anywhere near you, you creepster?!"

"You will," Brium was smiling widely now.

"Wanna bet?" I was trouncing all over this guy, and it felt good.

"Sure. As I was trying to say, if you'd ever let me finish, there's absolutely no way in hell I'm taking you with me if this is the attitude you're going to have."

Brium smiled wider at me. "If you want to assist me in saving your flock, I suggest you take a deep breath and try to relax."

My eyes widened. "You're going to get them out?" I said.

"If they're at the School, which I would think would be the place they would be, then yes; I'm going to get them out. And I may need your help. Interested?"

I nodded dumbly. This guy was on some sort of agenda; he had to be. But then… If he worked for the School, why rescue me at all?

"Where are we?" I asked. Might as well start with the basics.

"Dallas," Brium said. "We'll be leaving soon."

"To where?" I said, not liking the way he just said things, like his way was law.

"Los Angeles. I need to acquire a few things," Brium said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I muttered, trying to sit up again, and feeling a lot less dizzy this time. I got out of the bed, noticing I was still fully clothed. "How long was I out?"

"You didn't wake up for the first twenty-six hours. You did for a few minutes, and I got you to eat something and, uh, utilize the wonderful bathroom here, and then you fell sleep again. From then to now, you've been asleep about thirty-one hours. You probably don't remember waking up the first time; you were only awake for a few minutes anyway."

Hold the phone. "How long?!" I said again.

"About fifty-seven hours. You needed it, though. Trust me."

I have my doubts that the tranquilizer in that dart that supposedly hit me could take me out for over two days, but then again, knowing Jeb, he might just try something so powerful to put Fang and myself down for so long. Either way, for over two days I have been in this motel room with this guy, and God knows what has happened.

Oh, and I suppose being under for thirty whatever hours makes a person have to use the bathroom. Again, since I already had apparently.

And this guy had been around.

I shudder at the very thought, and am perhaps glad I don't remember any of it.

I got out of bed, and shook my head a bit to clear it. I moved to the bathroom, the only other room attached to this lovely little two room apartment. Brium watched me with a detached interest.

I stopped and looked at him. "What?" I demanded.

And he just sat there, smiling his little smile. "Nothing, really. I've never seen a girl as graceful as you. Then again, I've never seen a girl with as many similarities to me as you posses. Forgive me for my rudeness."

I rolled my eyes, not knowing what else to do, then I went for the bathroom door's handle, and grasped it. It took a moment for it to seep in, but it finally did.

I was using my left hand.

My left hand worked again.

I stared at it dumbfounded for a few moments, before pulling my hand back to stare at it. I wiggled all of my fingers in turn before forming a fist, and opening it again.

"What was wrong with your hand?" Brium asked, and I turned to look at him.

"What did you do?" I said.

He shrugged. "Nothing. I didn't have to, I guess. You seem to have recovered just fine without assistance. What was wrong with your hand?"

"Nerve damage," I said. "There was a chip in my arm, like a tracking chip or something. I had it removed, and the nerves were damaged."

"Hmm," Brium said. "Well, doesn't seem to be a problem now."

...Huh...

After using the bathroom, I decided to take a shower. I doubted Brium would mind. I hadn't taken an actual shower since…

I'll get back to you on that one.

But anyway, being forever since the last shower, I took my sweet time this time around. I was in there at least half an hour.

Despite how wonderful the shower was I was always thinking about Fang and the flock. Was Brium actually serious about rescuing them? Were they even in good enough shape to be rescued at all?

And it was thoughts like that that nearly ruined my shower experience.

If history was any indicator, the School was going to keep the flock alive. Why would they do different? If they wanted us dead, why would they go through all the trouble of capturing us?

After my shower I got dressed as I waited for the mirror to defog. When it did, I got a look at the scab on my neck, which didn't look nearly as bad as it had felt when I had touched it.

He had hurt me, but had done so taking the utmost care to not actually hurt me. If that made any sense at all.

I sighed to myself, and turned to face the door. I examined my hand again. Did it actually just heal on it's own? Did my recent state of unconsciousness help? Or had I developed some super cool healing powers?

It was capital B bizarre.

I moved all of my fingers once again, just making sure I could.

Then I turned an opened the door, wondering for the hundredth time just who the hell Brium was.


	26. Stitches

I opened the door and there he was, sitting on the bed closest to the door; the bed that I hadn't slept in. His bed, apparently.

"Hope the shower did you some good," he said. Not looking at me.

He wasn't wearing a shirt, and had his back turned to me so all I could really see his wings.

Like a previously mentioned, they were mainly black but had a few tani-sh/brown spots. I had to admit they were, I guess, pretty good looking wings.

Of course, I still preferred mine; mine were much better, but still.

"It was fine," I said, describing the shower with restrained detail. It had been more then fine. More like sent directly from Heaven. I wasn't feeling very conversation inclined at the moment so I didn't mention it.

"That's good," Brium said.

He sounded like he meant it.

But he still didn't turn to look at me.

One moment he couldn't stop looking at me, the next he wouldn't start.

I was about the inquire about that, when I noticed that he appeared to be doing something; his arms moved periodically, though it was hard to tell because of his wings, and he seemed to be devoting most if not all of his concentration on this mystery task.

And then he moved his right hand slightly, and I saw that he was holding something: a rather vicious looking knife.

Okay, that's where curiosity takes over.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, moving across the room to stand over his shoulder.

"Self applied medical aid," Brium said.

It didn't take me long to figure out what he meant. One glance at his body, and I realized he was covered with injuries.

Dozens of cuts and scrapes dotted his torso and arms topped off by a huge gash and several smaller ones that had needed stitches. The black thread was still there, as a matter of fact.

Brium passed the knife to his left hand and scooted over on the bed, patting the spot he had vacated, inviting me to sit next to him.

Now, normally I have nothing to do with sitting next to strangers, especially armed strangers, but it had occurred to me that Brium had had about a bazillion opportunities to kill me, and had actually done the opposite and I guess nursed me back to health, so I suppose that we had some sort of bizarre truce or trust or something.

Ah, what the hell? Might as well find out what I can.

I sat, staring at his battered body. "What happened to you?" I asked.

"Jeb. And Twenty-nine Erasers, including Ari."

"Ari?!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. Don't worry. I let him live. You tow know each other, I gather?"

I blinked. "Yes, we um… Yeah, we know each other," I was staring at the gash on Brium's chest. And then I was staring just at him.

He was… hot.

I mean, he had a great body; it wasn't like, super body builder ripped, more toned and defined. Like he was meant more for speed then strength.

The only other person with an even comparable body that I'd ever seen was… Fang.

Fang was back in the School! He was back in the worst place on Earth with the rest of my flock!

That thought was almost enough to make me jump up and ask (probably very loudly) just what kind of rescue we were going to make.

But I restrained the urge.

"Twenty-nine Erasers?" I asked instead. "How did you get away?"

Brium smiled, and for the first time since I had entered he looked at me. "I killed them. Except Ari and Jeb."

Bullshit.

Brium returned the knife to his right hand, and resumed what he had been doing.

He had been removing the stitches from the gashes; I could see he had several on his left arm that had already been removed, and now he was cutting the stitching on his chest.

"You killed them?" I asked, using a tone of utter disbelief. "How?"

Brium cut a few more threads. "I shot some. Used a blade on some. Stuff like that."

He put down the knife and began plucking the cut threads from his skin.

I doubted he had killed so many, but I didn't really want to get into it. "When did this happen?" I asked.

"Two days ago. They found me; I arranged a meeting; they tried to capture me; I killed them. In that order," Brium was halfway done with removing the threads from the gash.

Was this guy for real?

Time to find out.

"Alright, start talking," I demanded.

"I believe that's what I've been doing," Brium replied coolly.

That's not what I mean! I want to know your story, Brium," I used his name for the first time.

"All right, Max," Brium looked at me with those mismatched eyes. He had removed the duct tape bandage that had been over his eye and all that was left was a pink line of fresh scar tissue. He must've really been like us; he healed fast.

"What do you want to know?" he said.

"Everything. Start from the beginning."

"Hmmm." Brium thought for a moment, as he removed the last thread from the gash. "I was created, I was trained, I escaped, I've maintained my freedom and now I'm here with you. That's pretty much it."

Brium smiled. "How about you? What's your story?"

"You didn't tell me anything!" I sputtered.

"That's a lot more than I've told most other people," he replied.

Oh, it was going to be like this, then. That's cool. I can play this game.

"How old are you?" I asked.

I was going to have to do this question by question.

"Seventeen," he said. "You?"

"You don't get to know."

Brium gave a laugh "I can get quiet real fast, Max."

Fine.

"Fourteen," I said. "Where were you created? The School?

"Yes. I assume the same for you, and likely for the rest of the flock."

"Yes. That's where we were born," I said. I don't like the term 'created'. It made us sound less than human, and I hate that.

"When did you escape?" I asked,

"Forty-one months ago." Brium looked at me. "Do I need to ask?"

He was good, this one.

"About two years ago," I said.

Brium raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?" he said. "How did you do it with that many people?"

I swallowed. Here came the embarrassing part.

"Uh… Jeb helped us…"

"He did mention that," Brium said. "Your escape is apparently just a big elaborate test."

Yeah, that was basically the gist of it.

"So, what have you done for two years?" Brium asked.

"Well, we lived in this remote mountain house for most of it… Back when we thought Jeb was a hero; a… savior… We thought he was dead, and then one day the Erasers turned up, and low and behold Jeb was alive and… evil."

"Max, I'm going to be as frank with you as I can," I didn't like the look Brium was giving me. It was a look of urgency. "Jeb told me I was supposed to help you."

Okay… What…?

"Help me how?" I asked, truly curious.

Brium smiled. "These are Jeb's words, not mine." He took a breath. "I'm 'supposed' to help you save the world… Would you happen know anything about this 'world saving' business, or can I write it off as more of Jeb's absurd babble?"

I felt my jaw drop, and Brium's eyebrow raised a tad more.

Brium was involved with saving the world? How the hell…? What the…? Um…

"You know what I'm talking about," Brium said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," I nodded dumbly. "That's what Jeb's been telling me forever. I have to save the world."

"From what, may I ask?"

I shook my head. "I don't know… He's never given any specifics. I'm starting to wonder if that whole thing was a just a lie, too. Like everything else Jeb says."

Brium nodded once, "A distinct possibility. Curious that he would spread the same tale to multiple parties… What's he trying to gain, I wonder…"

Brium stood up and walked to a paper bag I hadn't noticed before it sat next to the bed.

He pulled out a black T-shirt and returned to sit next to me again. He still held the knife in his hand.

"So," Brium said, quickly and professionally cutting the double slits in the shirt; exactly like we all did with our clothing. "Why did you want that chip in your arm removed?"

"I thought it was…" I trailed off. I wasn't going to tell Brium about the Voice. I didn't want him to think I was crazy or weak or something. And plus, the Voice had been absent recently, so I wondered again if maybe it was gone for good…

Either way, I wasn't about the tell Brium that.

"I thought it might have been a tracking chip." That was a pretty good answer.

If Brium caught onto my lie, he didn't show it.

"That's what mine was, I think." He showed me his arm, and I saw a slight scar.

He had had one, too.

"You had a chip?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Who removed it?" I had Dr. Martinez at my disposal. How had Brium managed?

"I did," Brium said.

"How?" I asked. He had had removed it himself?!

Brium finished cutting the slits in the T-shirt. He held up the knife. "Using a knife very similar to this."

"What?\Are you like a surgeon?" I scoffed.

"Yes," Brium said matter-of-factly. "Not licensed, certainly. But the ability is there."

It took and effort to keep my jaw from dropping again.

Who was this guy?

Brium stood up and put the shirt on, and I was slightly sad that I couldn't see his perfect body anymore.

Hey, despite all of the obstacles, I am still a teenaged girl.

A still curious one at that.

"How did you get that gash?" I asked.

"Sword," he replied in a tone that implied that sword related injuries were a normal occurrence.

"A sword?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. The School has a new creation. Something that looks human," Brium said. "Only their strength is comparable to ours. So is their speed, for that matter. My guess is there's plenty more, and they're going to be hard to spot."

Brium checked the T-shirt over to make sure it was a good fit. "That plus the robotic Erasers really adds to our obstacles. Saving the flock may prove to be a difficult proposition."

"How are we getting the flock out of there?" I asked.

Brium smiled at me again. "We'll talk about that during the drive to Los Angeles."

* * *

Author's note:

It's been a while since I've done one of these notes.

Anyway, thanks for all of the reviews from all of you! I plan on personally thanking all of you in the stories' epilogue (which I can promise is still a long way off).

Hope the story's still entertaining.

And I'm only still warming up.


	27. Stubborn

"What do you mean drive?" Max asked him.

Brium sighed. She was unnecessarily difficult. "I mean just that. We're going to drive to Los Angeles. One, it'll draw far less attention, two we can do it at our leisure; no rush because we're not in the open, and three, I really don't want to have to carry a shotgun in flight the whole way there. It just makes more sense this way."

"We'd be faster if we fly," Max stared at him.

"I'm aware of that. Right now, speed is not necessary. If the flock's at the School there they will stay. And I know exactly where it is."

"But what if the Whitecoats kill them?!" Max stood up to her full height; a good few inches shorter than him.

What the hell was a Whitecoat? Brium figured she must mean the scientists, so he rolled with that conclusion.

"If they wanted them dead, why not kill them in the first place?" Brium asked. "We have time, Max, and I for one will not rush something as delicate as a rescue operation. You're going to have to trust me. And yes, I am aware what a steep request that is for you follow."

Talk about stubborn.

Over the course of his freedom, Brium had become really good at reading people. Max was stubborn. It was going to be interesting to work with, especially to him; someone used to doing things without having to explain himself. It would cost time. Brium hoped that Max would learn that he was usually right, and follow him accordingly.

It was an outside chance, of course, but it still merited hope.

Brium had had an interesting time pulling this girl out of the fire. If only Max and Fang had waited just a few more moments before jumping in to try and save the rest of the flock, Brium might have been able to stop them and formulate a more serviceable plan than simply flying full tilt into a known ambush. It had been easy enough to follow them there, but he just hadn't been able to get to them in time.

So then he had to hold Max hostage, cut her throat a bit for good measure, and then fly out of there carrying her.

Granted, she was like him; hollow bones and other such weight savers to help with flight, but still.

It was lucky that it was getting dark, because Brium didn't really want to explain why he was carrying an injured, unconscious girl around. Needless to say, getting to the hotel room had been and adventure all in itself.

Then she had slept. A lot longer than he had anticipated.

This was good though, because during slow moments, when he wasn't helping her eat or use the bathroom, Brium had had time to leave for about an hour to buy some clothes to replace his ruined ones, and more ammunition for his pistol and shotgun.

He had had only twenty-one bullets during the ill planned assault on the truck; nineteen short of his normal payload. And of course he hadn't carried the shotgun with him, knowing he'd be searching for a while (over ten hours, as it turned out) and wanted to be as light as possible for the extended adventure.

All in all, it had been an interesting week, that was for sure.

Brium remembered sitting in Denny's nearly five days before, thinking of meeting the flock. And now here he was. Not with the flock per se, but its leader.

A stubborn, ill tempered, irrational fourteen year old girl.

Quite his opposite in many respects.

This was going to be tricky.

Max seemed unhappy with his response.

"When are we saving the others?" she asked.

She really didn't think things through.

"In a few days. I need some things first."

She put her hands on her hips. "Like what?" she demanded.

Might as well tell her.

"I haven't finalized the list yet, but I'll need a few more guns, a van of a certain size and a hefty amount of C-4 plastic explosive."

Max's eyes widened, and Brium predicted some sort of objection. Which he had assumed would happen before he had even told her what he needed.

"I don't like guns. And explosives? You must be kidding."

"Kidding is something I don't do. Do you want your flock saved or not? You are in no way capable of doing it yourself, especially not utilizing your current methods," Brium said, shifting in his new T-shirt a bit, getting as comfortable as possible.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Max's voice raised a notch.

"Exactly what it sounds like it means," Brium smiled. "Now, we'll leave in a few minutes go shopping and rent a car. We'll be on the road to Los Angeles in under two hours."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Shopping for what?"

"For you, of course. Unless you'd prefer to continue wearing those tattered clothes."

She didn't quite have a smart comeback for that. She was just a teenage girl, after all, and they all seemed to like shopping. Almost a weakness.

It seemed ridiculous, but Brium wanted her wearing clothes that looked new, so to minimize how suspicious they looked. He was totally appealing to her vanity to further his cause, but that seemed the be the way to go with stubborn teenage girls.

"That would be nice. Thanks," Max muttered.

"And I'll pay for it of course," Brium added.

"Thanks…" she muttered again. She seemed caught totally off guard by how nice he was trying to be and he understood that completely. Here was a girl who had lived her whole life either as a prisoner or on the run to prevent becoming a prisoner again. Trust wasn't exactly an easy thing to gain with her.

But the life that had just been described was an exact copy of Brium's own life. Only he was better at it than she was, and he knew who he could and could not trust.

He only wished for the power to convey to Max that she could trust him. Probably more so than anyone else she had ever met. Perhaps even more so than her own flock.

But there was plenty of time for that later.

"Alrighty," Brium said, moving to stand next to his bed. He knelt down and reached under the bed pulling out the shotgun. He left the box of shells where they were.

Brium was already carrying the pistol and extra magazines in his new camouflaged shorts. He wondered if Max had noticed the absence of dried blood on the shorts and had figured he had bought a new pair.

He had also bought more socks, a couple pairs of boxer underwear, and a new black sweatshirt to replace the one that had been destroyed at Red Feather Lakes. What a day that had been.

Brium checked the shotgun over, making sure it was loaded and ready to use. He than put it back under the bed.

He stood up and pulled out the pistol, checking it over as well.

Max stared at him in silence.

"Who are you?" she finally said.

"Brium," he answered. "Not much more than that… My story's very similar to yours; perhaps I'll tell it to you someday." Brium turned to face her. "But you have to trust me, Max." Brium didn't like repeating himself, but this point was something that needed to be repeated until she believed it. "I didn't originally want to drag yourself or your flock into my life. My life's awfully touch and go. It can get violent and it can get desperate very quickly and I always assumed you and yours were better off on your own. I was wrong and I apologize. But, it must be stated that even if I had been looking for you from the start, I may not have found you. It was a stroke of pure luck that I found you at all."

Brium put the pistol back in his pocket and offered a smile, starting to the door.

"Grab your shoes, Max. They're right over there," he said.

* * *

Author's Note:

Much like my other stories, this one will be heavily thought motivated, making it sort of slow at times… Sorry… But that's just how I write, I guess. Hope it doesn't get too slow, anyway.


	28. Author's Note

Wow. It's been a while since I've worked on this one…. I was just wondering if I started working on it, would anyone still read it?


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